33  3  E 


JOHN  CHILCOTE 

OR 

THE  MASQUERADERS 

BY 

KATHERINE  CECIL  THURSTON 

j 

Author  of  "The   Gambler,"    "The  Liar,    or,    The   Circle," 

"The  Climax." 


Reprinted  From  Blackwood's  Edinburgh  Magazine. 


CHICAGO. 
DONOHUE  &  OGILVIE. 


JOHN  CHILCOTE; 

OR, 

THE  MASQUERADERS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

Two  incidents  widely  different  in  character,  yet  bound 
together  by  results,  marked  the  night  of  January  the 
23rd.  On  that  night  the  blackest  fog  within  a  four  years' 
memory  fell  upon  certain  portions  of  London;  and  also 
on  that  night  came  the  first  announcement  of  the  border 
risings  against  the  Persian  Government  in  the  province 
of  Khorasan — the  announcement  that,  speculated  upon, 
even  smiled  at,  at  the  time — assumed  such  significance  in 
the  light  of  after-events. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  news  began  to  spread  through 
the  House  of  Commons;  but  at  nine  men  in  the  inner 
lobbies  were  gossiping,  not  so  much  upon  how  far  Rus- 
sia, while  ostensibly  upholding  the  Shah,  had  pulled  the 
strings  by  which  the  insurgents  danced,  as  upon  the  man- 
ner in  which  "  The  St.  George's  Gazette  " — the  Tory 
evening  newspaper — had  seized  upon  the  incident  and 
practically  shaken  it  in  the  faces  of  the  Government. 

More  than  once,  Lakeley — the  owner  and  editor  of 
"  The  St.  George's  " — had  stepped  out  of  the  decorous 
circle  of  tradition  and  taken  a  plunge  into  modern  jour- 
nalism ;  but  to-night  he  essayed  deeper  waters  than  before, 
and  under  an  almost  sensational  heading  declared  that 
in  this  apparently  innocent  border  rising  we  had  less  an 
outcome  of  mere  race  antagonism  than  a  first  faint  index 
of  a  long-cherished  Russian  scheme,  that  was  growing  to 
a  gradual  maturity  under  the  "  drift "  policy  of  the  pres- 
ent British  Government. 


222' 

XwA«A*t 


2  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

The  effect  produced  by  this  pronouncement,  if  strong, 
was  varied.  Members  of  the  Opposition  saw,  or  thought 
they  saw,  a  reflection  of  it  in  the  exaggerated  unconcern 
on  the  Ministerial  benches;  and  the  Government  had  an 
uneasy  sense  that  behind  the  newly  kindled  interest  on  the 
other  side  of  the  House  lay  some  mysterious  scenting  of 
battle  from  afar  off.  But  though  these  impressions  ran 
like  electricity  through  the  atmosphere,  nothing  tangible 
marked  their  passage,  and  the  ordinary  business  of  the 
House  proceeded  until  half-past  eleven,  when  an  adjourn- 
ment was  moved. 

The  first  man  to  hurry  from  his  place  was  John  Chil- 
cote,  member  for  East  Wark.  He  walked  out  of  the 
House  quickly,  with  the  half-furtive  quickness  that 
marks  a  self-absorbed  man,  and  as  he  passed  the  police- 
man standing  stolidly  under  the  arched  doorway  of  the 
big  courtyard  he  swerved  a  little,  as  if  startled  out  of  his 
thoughts.  He  realized  his  swerve  almost  before  it  was 
accomplished,  and  pulled  himself  together  with  nervous 
irritability. 

"  Foggy  night,  constable ! "  he  said  with  elaborate 
carelessness. 

"  Foggy  night,  sir,  and  thickening  up  west,"  responded 
the  man. 

"Ah,  indeed!"  Chilcote's  answer  was  vague.  The 
constable's  cheery  voice  jarred  on  him,  and  for  the  sec- 
ond time  he  was  conscious  of  a  senseless  irritation. 
Without  a  further  glance  at  the  man  he  stepped  out  into 
the  courtyard  and  turned  towards  the  main  gate. 

At  the  gateway  two  cab-lamps  showed  through  the 
mist  of  shifting  fog  like  the  eyes  of  a  great  cat,  and 
the  familiar  "  Hansom,  sir  ?  "  came  to  him  indistinctly. 

He  paused  by  force  of  custom  and,  stepping  forward, 
had  almost  touched  the  open  door  of  the  vehicle  when  a 
new  impulse  caused  him  to  draw  back. 

"  No,"  he  said  hurriedly.    "  No;  I'll  walk." 

The  cabman  muttered,  lashed  his  horse,  and  with  a 
clatter  of  hoofs  and  harness  wheeled  away,  while  Chil- 
cote,  still  with  uncertain  hastiness,  crossed  the  road  in 
the  direction  of  Whitehall, 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  3 

About  the  Abbey  the  fog  had  partially  lifted,  and  in 
the  railed  garden  that  faces  the  Houses  of  Parliament 
the  statues  were  visible  in  a  spectral  way.  But  Chil- 
cote's  glance  was  unstable  and  indifferent;  he  skirted 
the  railings  heedlessly,  and  crossing  the  road  with  the 
speed  of  long  familiarity,  gained  Whitehall  on  the  left- 
hand  side. 

There,  the  fog  had  dropped,  and  to  any  one  looking 
upward  towards  Trafalgar  Square  it  would  have  seemed 
that  the  chain  of  lamps  extended  little  farther  than  the 
Horse  Guards,  and  that  beyond  lay  a  void. 

Unconscious  of  this  capricious  alternation  between 
darkness  and  light,  Chilcote  continued  his  course.  To  a 
close  observer  the  manner  of  his  going  had  both  interest 
and  suggestion,  for  though  he  walked  on,  apparently 
self-engrossed,  yet  at  every  trivial  touch  or  sound  he 
started,  like  a  man  whose  nervous  system  is  painfully 
overstrung. 

Maintaining  his  haste,  he  went  deliberately  forward, 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  at  each  step  the  curtain  of 
darkness  about  him  became  closer,  damper,  more  tangi- 
ble; that  each  second  the  passers-by  jostled  each  other 
with  greater  frequency,  while  the  scraps  of  conversation 
that  reached  him  became  more  dubious  and  indistinct. 
Then  abruptly,  with  a  sudden  realization  of  what  had 
happened,  he  stood  quite  still.  Without  anticipation  or 
preparation  he  had  walked  full  into  the  thickness  of  the 
fog — a  thickness  so  dense  that,  as  by  an  enchanter's 
wand,  the  shadowy  figures  of  a  moment  before  melted, 
and  the  street  lamps  were  sucked  up  into  the  night. 

His  first  feeling  was  a  sense  of  panic  at  the  sudden 
isolation,  his  second  a  thrill  of  nervous  apprehension  at 
the  oblivion  that  had  allowed  him  to  be  so  entrapped. 
The  second  feeling  out-weighed  the  first.  He  moved 
forward,  then  paused  again,  uncertain  of  himself.  Fi- 
nally, with  the  consciousness  that  inaction  was  unbearable, 
he  moved  on  once  more — his  eyes  wide  open,  one  hand 
thrust  out  as  a  protection  and  guide. 

The  fog  had  closed  in  behind  as  heavily  as  in  front, 
shutting  off  all  possibility  of  retreat;  all  about  him  in 


4  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

the  darkness  was  a  confusion  of  voices — cheerful,  uncer- 
tain, alarmed,  or  angry ;  now  and  then  a  sleeve  brushed 
his  or  a  hand  touched  him  tentatively.  It  was  a  strange 
moment — a  moment  of  possibilities,  to  which  the  crunch- 
ing wheels,  the  oaths  and  laughter  from  the  blocked 
traffic  of  the  roadway,  made  a  continuous  accompani- 
ment. 

Keeping  well  to  the  left,  he  still  beat  on ;  there  was  a 
persistence  in  his  movements  that  almost  amounted  to 
fear — a  fear  born  of  the  solitude  filled  with  innumerable 
sounds.  For  a  space  he  groped  about  him  without  result, 
then  his  fingers  touched  the  cold  surface  of  a  shuttered 
shop-front,  and  a  thrill  of  reassurance  passed  through 
him.  With  renewed  haste,  and  clinging  to  his  landmark 
as  a  blind  man  might,  he  started  forward  with  a  fresh 
impetus. 

For  a  dozen  paces  he  moved  rapidly  and  unevenly, 
then  the  inevitable  occurred.  He  collided  with  a  man 
coming  in  the  opposite  direction. 

The  shock  was  abrupt.  Both  men  swore  simultane- 
ously, then  both  laughed.  The  whole  thing  was  casual, 
but  Chilcote  was  in  that  state  of  mind  when  even  the 
commonplace  becomes  abnormal.  The  other  man's  excla- 
mation, the  other  man's  laugh,  struck  on  his  nerves ; 
coming  out  of  the  darkness,  they  sounded  like  an  echo  of 
his  own. 

Yet  nine  out  of  every  ten  men  in  London,  given  the 
same  social  position  and  the  same  education,  might  rea- 
sonably be  expected  to  express  annoyance  or  amusement 
in  the  same  manner,  possibly  in  the  same  tone  of  voice ; 
and  Chilcote  remembered  this  almost  at  the  moment  of 
his  nervous  jar. 

"  Beastly  fog !  "  he  said  aloud.  "  I'm  trying  to  get  to 
Grosvenor  Square,  but  the  chances  seem  rather  small." 

The  other  laughed  again,  and  again  the  laugh  upset 
Chilcote.  He  wondered  uncomfortably  if  he  was  becom- 
ing a  prey  to  illusions.  But  the  stranger  spoke  before 
the  question  had  solved  itself. 

"  I'm  afraid  they  are  small,"  he  said.    "  It  would  almost 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  5 

be  hard  to  find  one's  way  to  the  devil  on  a  night  like 
this." 

Chilcote  made  a  murmur  of  amusement  and  drew  back 
against  the  shop-front. 

"  Yes.  We  can  see  now  where  the  blind  man  scores 
in  the  matter  of  salvation,"  he  said.  "  This  is  almost  a 
repetition  of  the  fog  of  six  years  ago.  Were  you  out 
in  that  ?  "  It  was  a  habit  of  his  to  jump  from  one  sen- 
tence to  another — a  habit  that  had  grown  upon  him  of 
late. 

"  No."  The  stranger  had  also  groped  his  way  towards 
the  shop.  "  No ;  I  was  out  of  England  six  years  ago." 

"  You  were  lucky."  Chilcote  turned  up  the  collar  of 
his  coat.  "  That  was  an  atrocious  fog — as  black  as  this 
one  but  more  general.  I  remember  it  well.  It  was  the 
night  Lexington  made  his  great  sugar  speech.  Some  of 
us  were  found  on  Lambeth  Bridge  at  three  in  the  morn- 
ing, having  left  the  House  at  twelve." 

Chilcote  seldom  indulged  in  reminiscences,  but  this 
conversation  with  an  unseen  companion  was  more  like  a 
soliloquy  than  a  dialogue.  He  was  almost  surprised 
into  an  exclamation  when  the  other  caught  up  his  words. 

"Ah!  The  sugar  speech!"  he  said.  "Odd  that  I 
should  have  been  looking  it  up  only  yesterday.  What 
a  magnificent  dressing  up  of  a  dry  subject  it  was.  What 
a  career  Lexington  promised  in  those  days." 

Chilcote  changed  his  position. 

"  You  are  interested  in  the  muddle  down  at  West- 
minster ? "  he  asked  sarcastically. 

"  I ?  "  It  was  the  turn  of  the  other  to  draw  back. 

"  Oh,  I  read  my  newspaper  with  the  other  five  million, 
that  is  all.  I  am  an  outsider."  His  voice  sounded  curt ; 
the  warmth  that  admiration  had  brought  into  it  was  sud- 
denly frozen. 

"  An  outsider !  "  Chilcote  repeated.  "  What  an  envi- 
able word ! " 

"  Possibly — to  those  who  are  well  inside  the  ring. 
But  let  us  go  back  to  Lexington.  What  a  pinnacle  the 
man  reached — and  what  a  drop  he  had !  It  has  always 
seemed  to  me  an  extraordinarv  instance  of  the  human 


6  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

leaven  running  through  us  all."  He  paused  thought- 
fully; then  again  his  voice  sounded  through  the  dark- 
ness. "  What  was  the  real  cause  of  his  collapse  ?  "  he 
asked  suddenly.  "  Was  it  drugs  or  drink  ?  I  have  often 
wished  to  get  at  the  truth." 

Again  Chilcote  changed  his  attitude. 

"  Is  truth  ever  worth  getting  at  ? "  he  asked  irrele- 
vantly. 

"  In  the  case  of  a  public  man — yes.  He  exchanges  his 
privacy  for  the  interest  of  the  masses.  If  he  gives  the 
masses  the  details  of  his  success,  why  not  the  details 
of  his  failure  ?  Was  it  drink  that  sucked  him  under  ?  " 

"  No."     Chilcote's  response  came  after  a  pause. 

"Drugs?" 

Again  Chilcote  hesitated.  And  at  the  moment  of  his 
hesitation  a  woman  brushed  past  him,  laughing  boister- 
ously. The  sound  jarred  him. 

"  Was  it  drugs  ?  "  the  stranger  went  on  easily.  "  I 
have  always  had  a  theory  that  it  was." 

"  Yes.  It  was  morphia."  The  answer  came  before 
Chilcote  had  realized  it.  The  woman's  laugh  and  the 
stranger's  quiet  persistence  had  contrived  to  draw  it  from 
him.  Instantly  he  had  spoken  he  looked  about  him 
quickly  like  one  who  has  for  a  moment  forgotten  a  nec- 
essary vigilance. 

There  was  silence  while  the  other  thought  over  the 
information.  Then  he  spoke  again,  with  a  new  touch 
of  vehemence. 

"  So  I  imagined,"  he  said,  "  though,  on  my  soul,  I 
scarcely  credited  it.  To  have  gained  so  much — and  to 
have  thrown  it  away  for  a  common  vice !  "  He  made 
an  exclamation  of  disgust. 

Chilcote  gave  an  unsteady  laugh.  "  You  judge  hard- 
ly," he  said. 

The  other  repeated  his  sound  of  contempt.  "  Justly 
so.  No  man  has  the  right  to  squander  what  another 
would  give  his  soul  for.  It  lessens  the  general  respect 
for  power." 

"  You  are  a  believer  in  power?"  Again  Chilcote's 
tone  was  sarcastic,  but  the  sarcasm  sounded  thin, 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  7 

"  Yes.  All  power  is  the  outcome  of  individuality — 
either  past  or  present.  I  find  no  sentiment  for  the  man 
who  plays  with  it." 

The  quiet  contempt  of  the  words  stung  Chilcote. 

"  Do  you  imagine  that  Lexington  made  no  fight  ?  " 
he  asked  impulsively.  "  Can't  you  picture  the  man's 
struggle,  while  that  which  had  been  slave  gradually  be- 
came master  ?  "  He  stopped  to  take  breath,  and  in  the 
cold  pause  that  followed,  it  seemed  to  him  that  the 
other  made  a  murmur  of  incredulity. 

"Perhaps  you  think  of  morphia  as  a  pleasure?"  he 
added.  "  Think  of  it  instead  as  a  tyrant — that  tortures 
the  mind  if  held  to,  and  the  body  if  cast  off."  Urged 
by  the  darkness  and  by  the  silence  of  his  companion,  the 
rein  of  his  speech  had  loosened.  In  that  moment  he  was 
not  Chilcote  the  member  for  East  Wark,  whose  moods 
and  silences  were  proverbial,  but  Chilcote  the  man,  whose 
mind  craved  the  relief  of  speech. 

"You  talk  as  the  we. Id  talks — out  of  ignorance  and 
self-righteousness,"  he  went  on.  "  Before  you  condemn 
Lexington,  you  should  put  yourself  in  his  place " 

"As  you  do?"    The  other  laughed. 

Unsuspecting  and  inoffensive  as  the  laugh  was,  it 
startled  Chilcote.  With  a  sudden  alarm  he  pulled  him- 
self up. 

"  I ?  "  He  tried  to  echo  the  laugh,  but  the  attempt 

fell  flat.  "  Oh,  I  merely  speak  from — from  De  Quincey. 
But  I  believe  this  fog  is  shifting — I  really  believe  it  is 
shifting.  Can  you  oblige  me  with  a  light?  I  had  almost 
forgotten  that  a  man  may  smoke  even  though  he  has 
been  deprived  of  sight."  He  spoke  fast  and  disjointedly. 
He  was  overwhelmed  by  the  idea  that  he  had  let  himself 
go,  and  possessed  by  the  wish  to  obliterate  the  conse- 
quences. As  he  talked  he  fumbled  for  his  cigarette  case. 
His  head  was  bent  as  he  searched  for  it  nervously.  With- 
out looking  up,  he  was  conscious  that  the  cloud  of  fog 
that  held  him  prisoner  was  lifting,  rolling  away,  closing 
back  again,  preparatory  to  final  disappearance.  Having 
found  the  case,  he  put  a  cigarette  between  his  lips  and 


8  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

raised  his  head  at  the  moment  that  the  stranger  drew  a 
match  across  his  box. 

For  a  second  each  stared  blankly  at  the  other's  face, 
suddenly  made  visible  by  the  lifting  of  the  fog.  The 
match  in  the  stranger's  hand  burned  down  till  it  scorched 
his  fingers,  and,  feeling  the  pain,  he  laughed  and  let  it 
drop. 

"  Of  all  odd  things "  he  said.  Then  he  broke  off. 

The  circumstance  was  too  novel  for  ordinary  remark. 

By  one  of  those  rare  occurrences — those  chances  that 
seem  too  wild  for  real  life  and  yet  belong  to  no  other 
sphere — the  two  faces  so  strangely  hidden  and  so  strange- 
ly revealed  were  identical,  feature  for  feature.  It  seemed 
to  each  man  that  he  looked,  not  at  the  face  of  another, 
but  at  his  own  face  reflected  in  a  flawless  looking- 
glass. 

Of  the  two,  the  stranger  was  the  first  to  regain  self- 
possession.  Seeing  Chilcote's  bewilderment,  he  came  to 
his  rescue  with  brusque  tactfulness. 

"  The  position  is  decidedly  odd,"  he  said.  "  But,  after 
all,  why  should  we  be  so  surprised  ?  Nature  can't  be  eter- 
nally original ;  she  must  dry  up  sometimes,  and  when  she 
gets  a  good  model  why  shouldn't  she  use  it  twice  ?  "  He 
drew  back,  surveying  Chilcote  whimsically.  "  But,  par- 
don me,  you  are  still  waiting  for  the  light ! " 

Chilcote  held  the  cigarette  between  his  lips.  The  paper 
had  become  dry,  and  he  moistened  it  as  he  leant  towards 
his  companion. 

"  Don't  mind  me,"  he  said ;  "  I'm  rather — rather  un- 
strung to-night,  and  this  thing  gave  me  a  jar.  To  be 
candid,  my  imagination  took  head  in  the  fog.  I  got  to 
fancy  I  was  talking  to  myself " 

"  And  pulled  up  to  find  the  fancy  real  ?  "  The  stranger 
smiled. 

"Yes;  something  like  that." 

Both  were  silent  for  a  moment.  Chilcote  pulled  hard 
at  his  cigarette,  then  remembering  his  obligation,  he 
turned  quickly  to  the  other. 

"  Won't  you  smoke  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  stranger  accepted  a  cigarette  from  the  case  held 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  9 

out  to  him;  and  as  he  did  so,  his  extraordinary  likeness 
to  himself  struck  Chilcote  with  added  force.  Involun- 
tarily he  put  out  his  hand  and  touched  his  arm. 

"  It's  my  nerves ! "  he  said  again  in  explanation. 
"  They  make  me  want  to  feel  that  you  are  substantial. 
Nerves  play  such  beastly  tricks !  "  He  laughed  awk- 
wardly. 

The  other  glanced  up.  His  expression  on  the  moment 
was  slightly  surprised,  slightly  contemptuous,  but  he 
changed  it  instantly  to  one  of  conventional  interest.  "  I 
am  afraid  I  am  not  an  authority  on  nerves,"  he  said. 

But  Chilcote  was  preoccupied.  His  thoughts  had 
turned  into  another  channel. 

"  How  old  are  you  ?  "  he  asked  suddenly.  A  curiosity 
that  ran  into  odd  and  irrelevant  channels  was  charac- 
teristic of  him. 

The  other  did  not  answer  immediately.  "  My  age  ?  " 
he  said  at  last  slowly.  "  Oh,  I  believe  I  shall  be  thirty- 
six  to-morrow — to  be  quite  accurate." 

Chilcote  lifted  his  head  quickly. 

"  Why  do  you  use  that  tone  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  am  six 
months  older  than  you,  and  I  only  wish  it  was  six  years. 
Six  years  nearer  oblivion " 

Again  a  slight  expression  of  contempt  crossed  the 
other's  eyes.  "  Oblivion  ?  "  he  said.  "  Where  are  your 
ambitions  ?  " 

"  They  don't  exist." 

"  Don't  exist  ?  Yet  you  voice  your  country  ?  I  con- 
cluded that  much  in  the  fog." 

Chilcote  laughed  sarcastically. 

"  When  one  has  voiced  one's  country  for  six  years 
one  gets  hoarse — it's  a  natural  consequence." 

The  other  smiled.  "  Ah,  discontent  ?  "  he  said.  "  The 
modern  canker!  But  I  must  be  getting  under  way. 
Good  night !  Shall  we  shake  hands — to  prove  that  we 
are  genuinely  material  ?  " 

Chilcote  had  been  standing  unusually  still,  following 
the  stranger's  words — caught  by  his  self-reliance  and  im- 
pressed by  his  personality.  Now,  as  he  ceased  to  speak, 


10  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

he  moved  quickly  forward,  impelled  by  a  nervous  curi- 
osity. 

"  Why  should  we  just  hail  each  other  and  pass — like 
the  proverbial  ships?"  he  said  impulsively.  "If  nature 
was  careless  enough  to  let  the  reproduction  meet  the 
original,  she  must  abide  the  consequences." 

The  other  laughed,  but  his  laugh  was  short.  "  Oh, 
I  don't  know.  Our  roads  lie  differently.  You  would 

get  nothing  out  of  me,  and  I "  He  stopped,  and 

again  laughed  shortly.  "No,"  he  said;  "I'd  be  con- 
tent to  pass,  if  I  were  you.  The  unsuccessful  man  is 
seldom  a  profitable  study.  Shall  we  say  good  night?" 

He  took  Chilcote's  hand  for  an  instant;  then  cross- 
ing the  footpath  he  passed  into  the  roadway  towards 
the  Strand. 

It  was  done  in  a  moment ;  but  with  his  going  a  sense 
of  loss  fell  upon  Chilcote.  He  stood  for  a  space,  newly 
conscious  of  the  unfamiliar  faces  and  unfamiliar  voices 
in  the  stream  of  passers-by;  then,  suddenly  mastered 
by  an  impulse,  he  wheeled  rapidly,  and  darted  after  the 
tall,  lean  figure  so  ridiculously  like  his  own. 

Half-way  across  Trafalgar  Square  he  overtook  the 
stranger.  He  had  paused  on  one  of  the  small  stone 
islands  that  break  the  current  of  traffic,  and  was  wait- 
ing for  an  opportunity  to  cross  the  street.  In  the  glare 
of  light  from  the  lamp  above  his  head,  Chilcote  saw 
for  the  first  time  that,  under  a  remarkable  neatness  of 
appearance,  his  clothes  were  well  worn — almost  shabby. 
The  discovery  struck  him  with  a  feeling  stronger  than 
surprise.  The  idea  of  poverty  seemed  incongruous  in 
connection  with  the  reliance,  the  reserve,  the  person- 
ality of  the  man.  With  a  certain  embarrassed  haste 
he  stepped  forward  and  touched  his  arm. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  as  the  other  turned  quietly. 
"  I  have  followed  you  to  exchange  cards.  It  can't  in- 
jure either  of  us,  and  I — I  have  a  wish  to  know  my 
other  self."  He  laughed  nervously  as  he  drew  out  his 
card-case. 

The  stranger  watched  him  in  silence.  There  was 
the  same  faint  contempt,  but  also  there  was  a  reluctant 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  11 

interest  in  his  glance,  as  it  passed  from  the  fingers 
fumbling  with  the  case  to  the  pale  face  with  set  jaw, 
straight  mouth,  and  level  eyebrows  drawn  low  over 
the  gray  eyes.  When  at  last  the  card  was  held  out  to 
him,  he  took  it  without  remark,  and  slipped  it  into  his 
pocket. 

Chilcote  looked  at  him  eagerly.  "  Now  the  ex- 
change ?  "  he  said. 

For  a  second  the  stranger  did  not  respond.  Then 
almost  unexpectedly  he  smiled. 

"  After  all,  if  it  amuses  you "  he  said.  And 

searching  in  his  waistcoat  pocket,  he  drew  out  the  re- 
quired card. 

"  It  will  leave  you  quite  unenlightened,"  he  added. 
"  The  name  of  a  failure  never  spells  anything."  With 
another  smile,  partly  amused,  partly  ironical,  he  stepped 
from  the  little  island  and  disappeared  into  the  throng 
of  traffic. 

Chilcote  stood  for  an  instant  gazing  at  the  point 
where  he  had  vanished ;  then  turning  to  the  lamp,  he 
lifted  the  card  and  read  the  name  it  bore :  "  Mr.  John 
Loder,  13  Clifford's  Inn." 


CHAPTER  II. 

The  morning  following  the  night  of  fog  Chilcote 
woke  at  nine.  He  woke  at  the  moment  that  his  man 
Allsopp  tiptoed  across  his  room  and  laid  the  salver  with 
his  early  cup  of  tea  on  the  table  beside  his  bed. 

For  several  seconds  he  lay  with  his  eyes  shut;  the 
effort  of  opening  them  on  a  fresh  day — the  intimate 
certainty  of  what  he  would  see  when  he  did  open  them 
— seemed  to  weight  his  lids.  The  heavy,  half-closed 
curtains,  the  blinds  severely  drawn,  the  great  room  with 
its  splendid  furniture,  its  sober  coloring,  its  scent  of 
damp  London  winter;  above  all  Allsopp — silent,  respect- 
ful, and  respectable — were  things  to  dread. 

A  full  minute  passed  while  he  still  feigned  sleep.    He 


12  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

heard  Allsopp  stir  discreetly,  then  the  inevitable  infor- 
mation broke  the  silence. 

"  Nine  o'clock,  sir !  " 

He  opened  his  eyes,  murmured  something,  and  let  his 
eyelids  close  again. 

The  man  moved  to  the  window,  quietly  pulled  back 
the  curtains  and  half  drew  the  blind. 

"Better  night,  sir,  I  hope?"  he  ventured  softly. 

Chilcote  had  drawn  the  bedclothes  over  his  face  to 
screen  himself  from  the  daylight,  murky  though  it  was. 

"  Yes,"  he  responded.  "  Those  beastly  nightmares 
didn't  trouble  me  for  once."  He  shivered  a  little  as  at 
some  recollection.  "  But  don't  talk — don't  remind  me 
of  them.  I  hate  a  man  who  has  no  originality."  He 
spoke  sharply.  At  times  he  showed  an  almost  childish 
irritation  over  trivial  things. 

Allsopp  took  the  remark  in  silence.  Crossing  the 
wide  room,  he  began  to  lay  out  his  master's  clothes. 
The  action  affected  ChUcote  to  fresh  annoyance. 

"Confound  it!"  he  said,  "I'm  sick  of  that  routine. 
I  can  see  you  laying  out  my  winding-sheet  on  the  day 
of  my  burial.  Leave  those  things.  Come  back  in  half 
an  hour." 

Allsopp  allowed  himself  one  glance  at  his  master's 
figure  huddled  in  the  great  bed,  then  laying  aside  the 
coat  that  he  was  holding,  he  moved  to  the  door.  With 
his  fingers  on  the  handle  he  paused. 

"  Will  you  breakfast  in  your  own  room,  sir — or  down- 
stairs ? " 

Chilcote  drew  the  clothes  more  tightly  around  his 
shoulders.  "  Oh,  anywhere — nowhere,"  he  said.  "  I 
don't  care." 

Allsopp  withdrew  softly. 

Left  to  himself,  Chilcote  sat  up  in  bed  and  lifted  the 
salver  to  his  knees.  The  sudden  movement  jarred  him 
physically:  he  drew  a  handkerchief  from  under  the  pil- 
low and  wiped  his  forehead ;  then  he  held  his  hand  to 
the  light  and  studied  it.  The  hand  looked  sallow  and 
unsteady.  With  a  nervous  gesture  he  thrust  the  salver 
back  upon  the  table  and  slid  out  of  bed. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  13 

Moving"  hastily  across  the  room,  he  stopped  before 
one  of  the  tall  wardrobes  and  swung  the  door  open; 
after  a  furtive  glance  round  the  room,  he  thrust  his 
hand  into  the  recesses  of  a  shelf.  The  thing  he  sought 
was  evidently  not  hard  to  find,  for  almost  at  once  he 
withdrew  his  hand  and  moved  from  the  wardrobe  to  a 
table  beside  the  fireplace,  carrying  a  small  tube  filled 
with  white  tabloids. 

On  the  table  was  a  decanter,  a  syphon,  and  a  water 
jug.  Mixing  some  whisky,  he  uncorked  the  tube  he 
was  carrying,  glanced  apprehensively  towards  the  door, 
and  with  a  very  nervous  hand  dropped  the  necessary 
number  of  tabloids  into  the  glass. 

While  the  tabloids  were  dissolving,  he  stood  with  his 
hand  on  the  table  and  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  floor,  evi- 
dently restraining  his  impatience.  Instantly  they  had 
disappeared  he  seized  the  glass  and  drained  it  at  a 
draught.  A  moment  later  he  replaced  the  tube  in  the 
wardrobe  and,  shivering  slightly  in  the  raw  air,  slipped 
back  into  bed. 

When  Allsopp  returned  he  was  sitting  up  supported 
by  his  piHows,  a  cigarette  between  his  lips,  the  teacup 
standing  empty  on  the  salver.  The  nervous  irritability 
had  gone  from  his  manner.  He  no  longer  moved  jerk- 
ily, his  eyes  looked  brighter,  his  pale  skin  more  healthy. 

"  Ah,  Allsopp,"  he  said,  "  there  are  some  moments 
in  life  after  all.  It  isn't  all  blank  wall." 

"  I  ordered  breakfast  in  the  small  morning-room,  sir," 
said  Allsopp,  without  a  change  of  expression. 


Chilcote  breakfasted  at  ten.  His  appetite,  always 
fickle,  was  particularly  uncertain  in  the  early  hours.  He 
helped  himself  to  some  fish,  but  sent  away  his  plate 
untouched;  then,  having  drunk  two  cups  of  tea,  he 
pushed  back  his  chair,  lighted  a  fresh  cigarette,  and 
shook  out  the  morning's  newspaper. 

Twice  he  shook  it  out  and  twice  turned  it,  but  the 
reluctance  to  fix  his  mind  upon  it  made  him.  dally.  The 
effect  of  the  morphia  tabloids  was  still  apparent  in  the 


14  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

greater  steadiness  of  his  hand  and  eye — the  regained 
quiet  of  his  susceptibilities — but  the  respite  was  tem- 
porary and  lethargic.  The  early  days — the  days  of  six 
years  ago,  when  these  tabloids  had  meant  an  even  sweep 
of  thought,  lucidity  of  brain,  a  balance  of  judgment  in 
thought  and  effort — were  days  of  the  past.  As  he  had 
said  of  Lexington  and  his  vice,  the  slave  had  become 
master. 

As  he  folded  the  paper  in  a  last  attempt  at  interest, 
the  door  opened,  and  his  secretary  came  a  step  or  two 
into  the  room. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Forgive  me  for  being 
so  untimely." 

He  was  a  fresh-mannered,  bright-eyed  boy  of  twenty- 
three.  His  breezy  alertness,  his  deference — as  to  a  man 
who  had  attained  what  he  aspired  to — amused  and  de- 
pressed Chilcote  by  turns. 

"  Good  morning,  Blessington,"  he  said.  "  What  is  it 
now  ? "  He  sighed  from,  habit,  and  putting  up  his 
hand,  warded  off  a  ray  of  sun  that  had  forced  itself 
through  the  misty  atmosphere  as  if  by  mistake. 

The  boy  smiled.  "  It's  that  business  of  the  Wark 
timber  contract,  sir,"  he  said.  "  You  promised  you'd 
look  into  it  to-day;  you  know  you've  shelved  it  for  a 
week  already,  and  Craig,  Burnage,  are  rather  clamor- 
ing for  an  answer."  He  moved  forward  and  laid  the 
papers  he  was  carrying  on  the  table  beside  Chilcote. 
"  I'm  sorry  to  be  such  a  nuisance,"  he  added ;  "  I  hope 
your  nerves  aren't  worrying  you  to-day?" 

Chilcote  was  toying  with  the  papers.  At  the  word 
nerves  he  glanced  up  suspiciously.  But  Blessington's 
ingenuous  face  satisfied  him. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  I  settled  my  nerves  last  night  with 
— with  a  bromide.  I  knew  that  fog  would  upset  me 
unless  I  took  precautions." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,  sir — though  I'd  avoid  bromides. 
Bad  habit  to  set  up.  But  this  Wark  business — I'd  like 
to  get  it  under  way,  if  you  have  no  objection." 

Chilcote  passed  his  fingers  over  the  papers.  "  Were 
you  out  in  that  fog  last  night,  Blessington  ? " 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  15 

"  No,  sir.  I  supped  with  some  people  at  the  Savoy, 
and  we  just  missed  it.  It  was  very  partial,  I  believe." 

"  So  I  believe." 

Blessington  put  his  hand  to  his  neat  tie  and  pulled 
it.  He  was  extremely  polite,  but  he  had  an  inordinate 
sense  of  duty. 

"  Forgive  me,  sir,"  he  said ;  "  but  about  that  contract 
— I  know  I'm  a  frightful  bore." 

"  Oh,  the  contract !  "  Chilcote  looked  about  him  ab- 
sently. "  By  the  way,  did  you  see  anything  of  my  wife 
yesterday?  What  did  she  do  last  night?" 

"  Mrs  Chilcote  gave  me  some  tea  yesterday  after- 
noon. She  told  me  she  was  dining  at  Lady  Sabinet's, 
and  looking  in  at  one  or  two  other  places  later  on." 
He  eyed  his  papers  and  Chilcote's  listless  hand. 

Chilcote  smiled  satirically.  "  Eve  is  very  true  to 
society,"  he  said.  "  I  couldn't  dine  at  the  Sabinets'  if 
it  was  to  make  me  Premier.  They  have  a  butler  who 
is  an  institution — a  sort  of  heirloom  in  the  family.  He 
is  fat,  and  breathes  audibly.  Last  time  I  lunched  there 
he  haunted  me  for  a  whole  night." 

Blessington  laughed  gaily.  "  Mrs.  Chilcote  doesn't 
see  ghosts,  sir,"  he  said ;  "  but  if  I  may  suggest " 

Chilcote  tapped  his  fingers  on  the  table. 

"  No.  Eve  doesn't  see  ghosts.  We  rather  miss  sym- 
pathy there." 

Blessington  governed  his  impatience.  He  stood  still 
for  some  seconds,  then  glanced  down  at  his  pointed 
boots. 

"If  you  will  be  lenient  to  my  persistency,  sir,  I  would 
like  to  remind  you " 

Chilcote  lifted  his  head  with  a  flash  of  irritability. 

"  Confound  it,  Blessington ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  am  I 
never  to  be  left  in  peace?  Am  I  never  to  sit  down  to 
a  meal  without  having  work  thrust  upon  me?  Work — 
work — perpetually  work !  I  have  heard  no  other  word 

in  the  last  six  years.  I  declare  there  are  times " 

he  rose  suddenly  from  his  seat  and  turned  to  the  win- 
dow. "  There  are  times  when  I  feel  that  for  sixpence 
I'd  chuck  it  all — the  whole  beastly  round " 


16  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Startled  by  his  vehemence,  Blessington  wheeled  to- 
wards him. 

"  Not  your  political  career,  sir." 

There  was  a  moment  in  which  Chilcote  hesitated,  a 
moment  in  which  the  desire  that  had  filled  his  mind  for 
months  rose  to  his  lips  and  hung  there ;  then  the  ques- 
tion, the  incredulity  in  Blessington's  face,  chilled  it, 
and  it  fell  back  into  silence. 

"  I — I  didn't  say  that,"  he  murmured.  "  You  young 
men  jump  to  conclusions,  Blessington." 

"  Forgive  me,  sir.  I  never  meant  to  imply  retirement. 
Why,  Rickshaw,  Vale,  Cressham,  and  the  whole  Wark 
crowd  would  be  about  your  ears  like  flies  if  such  a 
thing  were  even  breathed — now  more  than  ever,  since 
these  Persian  rumors  have  begun  to  spread.  By  the 
way,  is  there  anything  real  in  this  Khorasan  business? 
'  The  St.  George's '  came  out  rather  strong  last  night." 

Chilcote  had  moved  back  to  the  table.  His  face  was 
pale  from  his  outburst  and  his  fingers  toyed  restlessly 
with  the  open  newspaper. 

"  I  haven't  seen  '  The  St.  George's/  "  he  said  hastily. 
"  Lakeley  is  always  ready  to  shake  the  red  rag  where 
Russia  is  concerned;  whether  we  are  to  enter  the  arena 
is  another  matter.  But  what  about  Craig,  Burnage?  I 
think  you  mentioned  something  of  a  contract." 

'""  Oh,  don't  worry  about  that,  sir."  Blessington  had 
caught  the  twitching  at  the  corners  of  Chilcote's  mouth, 
the  nervous  sharpness  of  his  voice.  "  I  can  put  Craig, 
Burnage  off.  If  they  have  an  answer  by  Thursday  it 
will  be  time  enough."  He  began  to  collect  his  papers, 
but  Chilcote  stopped  him. 

"Wait!"  he  said,  veering  suddenly.  "Wait!  I'll 
see  to  it  now.  I'll  feel  more  myself  when  I've  done 
something.  I'll  come  with  you  to  the  study." 

He  walked  hastily  across  the  room;  then,  with  his 
hand  on  the  door,  he  paused. 

"  You  go  first,  Blessington,"  he  said.  "  I'll— I'll  fol- 
low you  in  ten  minutes.  I  must  glance  through  the 
newspapers  first." 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  17 

Blessington  looked  uncertain.  "  You  won't  forget, 
sir?" 

"  Forget  ?    Of  course  not." 

Still  doubtfully  Blessington  left  the  room  and  closed 
the  door. 

Once  alone,  Chilcote  walked  slowly  back  to  the  table, 
drew  up  his  chair  and  sat  down — his  eyes  on  the  white 
cloth,  the  morning  papers  lying  unheeded  beside  him. 

Time  passed.  A  servant  came  into  the  room  to  re- 
move the  breakfast.  He  moved  slightly  when  neces- 
sary, but  otherwise  retained  his  attitude.  The  servant, 
having  finished  his  task,  replenished  the  fire  and  left 
the  room.  Chilcote  still  sat  on. 

At  last,  feeling  numbed,  he  rose  and  crossed  to  the 
fireplace.  The  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  stared  him  in 
the  face.  He  looked  at  it,  started  slightly,  then  drew 
out  his  watch.  Watch  and  clock  corresponded.  Each 
marked  twelve  o'clock.  With  a  nervous  motion  he 
leaned  forward  and  pressed  the  electric  bell  long  and 
hard. 

A  servant  answered  instantly. 

"  Is  Mr.  Blessington  in  the  study  ?  "  Chilcote  asked. 

"  He  was  there,  sir,  five  minutes  back." 

Chilcote  looked  relieved. 

"  All  right !  Tell  him  I  have  gone  out — have  had  to 
go  out.  Something  important.  You  understand  ?  " 

"  I  understand,  sir." 

But  before  the  reply  had  been  properly  spoken  Chil- 
cote had  passed  the  man  and  walked  into  the  hall. 


CHAPTER  III. 

Leaving  his  house,  Chilcote  walked  forward  quickly 
and  aimlessly.  With  the  sting  of  the  outer  air,  the 
recollection  of  last  night's  adventure  came  back  upon 
him.  Since  the  hour  of  his  waking  it  had  hung  about 
him  with  vague  persistence,  but  now  in  the  clear  light 
of  day  it  seemed  to  stand  out  with  a  fuller  peculiarity. 


18  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

The  thing  was  preposterous,  nevertheless  it  was  genu- 
ine. He  was  wearing  the  overcoat  that  he  had  worn 
the  night  before,  and  acting  on  impulse  he  thrust  his 
hand  into  the  pocket  and  drew  out  the  stranger's  card. 

"  Mr.  John  Loder !  "  He  reiterated  the  name  as  he 
walked  along,  and  mechanically  it  repeated  itself  in  his 
brain — falling  into  measure  with  his  steps.  Who  was 
this  John  Loder?  What  was  he?  The  questions  tan- 
talized him  till  his  pace  unconsciously  increased.  The 
thought  that  two  men  so  absurdly  alike  could  inhabit 
the  same  city  and  remain  unknown  to  each  other  faced 
him  like  a  problem;  it  tangled  with  his  personal  wor- 
ries and  aggravated  them.  There  was  something  akin 
to  danger  in  such  an  extraordinary  resemblance.  He 
began  to  regret  his  impetuosity  in  thrusting  his  card 
upon  the  man — his  stupidity  in  letting  himself  go  on 
the  subject  of  Lexington.  He  turned  hot  and  cold  at 
the  recollection  of  what  he  had  said  and  what  he  might 
have  said.  Then  for  the  first  time  he  paused  in  his  walk 
and  looked  about  him. 

On  leaving  Grosvenor  Square  he  had  turned  west- 
ward, moving  rapidly  till  the  Marble  Arch  was  reached ; 
there,  still  oblivious  of  his  surroundings,  he  had  crossed 
to  the  Edgeware  Road,  passing  through  it  to  the  laby- 
rinth of  shabby  streets  that  lie  behind  Paddington. 
Now,  as  he  glanced  about  him,  he  saw  with  some  sur- 
prise how  far  he  had  come. 

The  damp  remnants  of  last  night's  fog  still  hung 
about  the  house-tops  in  a  filmy  veil,  there  were  no 
glimpses  of  green  to  break  the  monotony  of  tone — all 
was  quiet,  dingy,  neglected.  But  to  Chilcote  the  shab- 
biness  was  restful,  the  subdued  atmosphere  a  satisfac- 
tion. Amongst  these  sad  houses,  these  passers-by,  each 
drearily  filled  with  his  own  concerns,  he  experienced  a 
sense  of  respite  and  relief.  In  the  fashionable  streets 
that  bounded  his  own  horizon,  if  a  man  paused  in  his 
walk  to  work  out  an  idea  he  instantly  drew  a  crowd 
of  inquisitive  or  contemptuous  eyes:  here,  if  a  man 
halted  for  half  an  hour  it  was  nobody's  business  but 
his  own. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  19 

Enjoying  this  thought,  he  wandered  on  for  close  upon 
an  hour,  moving  from  one  street  to  another  with  steps 
that  were  listless  or  rapid  as  inclination  prompted;  then, 
still  acting  with  pleasant  aimlessness,  he  stopped  in  his 
wanderings  and  entered  a  small  eating-house. 

The  place  was  low-ceiled  and  dirty,  the  air  hot  and 
steaming  with  the  smell  of  food,  but  Chilcote  passed 
through  the  door  and  moved  to  one  of  the  tables  with 
no  expression  of  disgust  and  with  far  less  furtive  watch- 
fulness than  he  used  in  his  own  house.  By  a  curious 
mental  twist  he  felt  greater  freedom,  larger  opportuni- 
ties in  drab  surroundings  such  as  these  than  in  the 
broad  issues  and  weighty  responsibilities  of  his  own 
life.  Choosing  a  corner  seat,  he  called  for  coffee;  and 
there,  protected  by  shadows  and  wrapped  in  cigarette 
smoke,  he  set  about  imagining  himself  some  vagrant 
unit  who  had  slipped  his  moorings  and  was  blissfully 
adrift. 

The  imagination  was  pleasant  while  it  lasted,  but  with 
him  nothing  was  permanent.  Of  late  the  greater  part 
of  his  sufferings  had  been  comprised  in  the  irritable 
fickleness  of  all  his  aims — the  distaste  for,  and  impos- 
sibility of,  sustained  effort  in  any  direction.  He  had 
barely  lighted  a  second  cigarette  when  the  old  restless- 
ness fell  upon  him  and  he  stirred  nervously  in  his  seat. 
Five  minutes  later  he  rose,  paid  his  small  bill,  and  left 
the  shop. 

Outside  on  the  pavement  he  halted,  and  pulling  out 
his  watch,  saw  that  two  hours  stretched  in  front  of  him 
before  any  appointment  claimed  his  attention.  He  won- 
dered vaguely  where  he  might  go — what  he  might  do  in 
those  two  hours. 

In  the  last  few  minutes  a  distaste  for  solitude  had 
risen  in  his  mind,  giving  the  close  street  a  loneliness 
that  had  escaped  him  before. 

As  he  stood  mentally  wavering,  a  cab  passed  slowly 
down  the  street.  The  sight  of  a  well-dressed  man 
roused  the  cabman.  Flicking  his  whip,  he  passed  Chil- 
cote close,  feigning  to  pull  up. 

The     cab     suggested    civilization.      Chilcote's     mind 


20  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

veered  suddenly,  and  he  raised  his  hand.  The  vehicle 
stopped,  and  he  climbed  in. 

"  Where  to,  sir  ?  "  The  cabman  peered  down  through 
the  roof-door. 

Chilcote  raised  his  head.  "  Oh,  anywhere  near  Pall 
Mall,"  he  said.  Then  as  the  horse  started  forward, 
he  put  up  his  hand  and  shook  the  trap-door. 

"  Wait !  "  he  called.  "  I've  changed  my  mind.  Drive 
to  Cadogan  Garden — No.  33." 


The  distance  to  Cadogan  Gardens  was  quickly  cov- 
ered. Chilcote  had  hardly  realized  that  his  destination 
was  reached,  when  the  cab  pulled  up.  Jumping  out,  he 
paid  the  fare  and  walked  quickly  to  the  hall-door  of 
the  house  he  wanted. 

"  Is  Lady  Astrupp  at  home  ? "  he  asked  sharply  as 
the  door  swung  open  in  answer  to  his  knock. 

The  servant  drew  back  deferentially.  "  Her  ladyship 
has  almost  finished  lunch,  sir,"  he  said. 

For  answer  Chilcote  stepped  through  the  doorway 
and  walked  half-way  across  the  hall. 

"  All  right,"  he  said.  "  But  don't  disturb  her  on  my 
account.  I'll  wait  in  the  white  room  till  she  has  fin- 
ished." Without  taking  further  notice  of  the  man,  he 
began  to  mount  the  stairs. 

In  the  room  where  he  had  chosen  to  wait,  a  pleasant 
wood  fire  brightened  the  dull  January  afternoon  and 
softened  the  thick  white  curtains,  the  gilt  furniture,  and 
the  Venetian  vases  filled  with  white  roses.  Moving 
straight  forward,  he  paused  by  the  grate  and  stretched 
his  hands  to  the  blaze;  then,  with  his  usual  instability, 
he  turned  and  passed  to  a  couch  that  stood  a  yard  or 
two  from  the  fireplace. 

On  the  couch,  tucked  away  between  a  novel  and  a 
crystal-gazing  ball,  was  a  white  Persian  kitten  fast 
asleep.  Chilcote  picked  up  the  ball  and  held  it  between 
his  eyes  and  the  fire;  then  he  laughed  superciliously, 
tossed  it  back  into  its  place  and  caught  the  kitten's  tail. 
The  little  animal  stirred,  stretched  itself,  and  began  to 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  21 

purr.  At  the  same  moment  the  door  of  the  room 
opened. 

Chilcote  turned. 

"  I  particularly  said  you  were  not  to  be  disturbed," 
he  began.  "  Have  I  merited  displeasure  ?  "  He  spoke 
fast,  with  the  uneasy  tone  that  so  often  underran  his 
words. 

Lady  Astrupp  took  his  hand  with  a  confiding  gesture 
and  smiled. 

"  Never  displeasure,"  she  said  lingeringly,  and  again 
she  smiled.  The  smile  might  have  struck  a  close  ob- 
server as  being  faintly  artificial.  But  what  man  in  Chil- 
cote's  frame  of  mind  has  time  to  be  observant  where 
women  are  concerned.  The  manner  of  the  smile  was 
very  sweet  and  almost  caressing — and  that  sufficed. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  ? "  she  asked  after  a 
moment's  pause ;  "  I  thought  I  was  quite  forgotten." 
She  moved  to  the  couch,  picked  up  the  kitten,  and  kissed 
it.  "  Isn't  this  sweet?  "  she  added. 

She  looked  very  graceful  as  she  turned,  holding  the 
little  animal  up.  She  was  a  woman  of  twenty-seven, 
but  she  still  looked  a  girl.  The  outline  of  her  face  was 
pure,  the  pale  gold  of  her  hair  almost  ethereal,  and  her 
tall  slight  figure  still  suggested  the  suppleness — the  pos- 
sibility of  future  development — that  belongs  to  youth. 
She  wore  a  lace-colored  gown  that  harmonized  with 
the  room  and  with  the  delicacy  of  her  skin. 

"  Now  sit  down  and  rest — or  walk  about.  I  shan't 
mind  which."  She  nestled  into  the  couch  and  picked 
up  the  crystal  ball. 

"  What  is  the  toy  for  ?  "  Chilcote  looked  at  her  from 
the  mantelpiece  against  which  he  was  leaning.  He  had 
never  defined  the  precise  attraction  that  Lillian  Astrupp 
held  for  him.  Her  shallowness  soothed  him ;  her  incon- 
sequent egotism  helped  him  to  forget  himself.  She 
never  asked  him  how  he  was.  She  never  expected  im- 
possibilities. She  let  him  come  and  go  and  act  as  he 
pleased,  never  demanding  reasons.  Like  the  kitten, 
she  was  charming  and  graceful  and  easily  amused;  it 
was  possible  that,  also  like  the  kitten,  she  could  scratch 


22  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

and  be  spiteful  on  occasion,  but  that  did  not  weigh  with 
Chilcote.  He  sometimes  expressed  a  vague  envy  of  the 
late  Lord  Astrupp;  but,  even  had  circumstances  per- 
mitted, it  is  doubtful  whether  he  would  have  chosen  to 
be  his  successor.  Lillian  as  a  friend  was  delightful,  but 
Lillian  as  a  wife  would  have  been  a  different  consider- 
ation. 

"  What  is  the  toy  for?"  he  asked  again. 

She  looked  up  slowly.  "  How  cruel  of  you,  Jack !  It 
is  my  very  latest  hobby." 

It  was  part  of  her  attraction  that  she  was  never  with- 
out a  craze.  Each  new  one  was  as  fleeting  as  the  last; 
but  to  each  she  brought  the  same  delightfully  insincere 
enthusiasm,  the  same  picturesque  devotion.  Each  was 
a  pose,  but  she  posed  so  sweetly  that  nobody  lost  pa- 
tience. 

"  You  mustn't  laugh ! "  she  protested,  letting  the  kit- 
ten slip  to  the  ground.  "I've  had  lessons  at  five  guineas 
each  from  the  most  fascinating  person — a  professional; 
and  I'm  becoming  quite  an  adept.  Of  course  I  haven't 
seen  much  beyond  the  milky  appearance  yet — but  the 
milky  appearance  is  everything,  you  know;  the  rest 
will  come.  I  am  trying  to  persuade  Blanche  to  let  me 
have  a  pavilion  at  her  party  in  March — and  gaze  for 
all  you  dull  political  people."  Again  she  smiled. 

Chilcote  smiled  as  well.  "  How  is  it  done?  "  he  asked, 
momentarily  amused. 

"  Oh,  the  doing  is  quite  delicious.  You  sit  at  a  table 
with  the  ball  in  front  of  you;  then  you  take  the  subject's 
hands,  spread  them  out  on  the  table,  and  stroke  them 
very  softly  while  you  gaze  into  the  crystal — that  gets 
up  the  sympathy,  you  know."  She  looked  up  inno- 
cently. "  Shall  I  show  you  ?  " 

Chilcote  drew  a  small  table  to  the  couch  and  spread 
his  hands  upon  it,  palms  downward.  "  Like  this,  eh  ?  " 
he  said.  Then  a  ridiculous  nervousness  seized  him,  and 
he  moved  away.  "  Some  other  day,"  he  said  quickly. 
"  You  can  show  me  some  other  day.  I'm  not  very  fit 
this  afternoon." 

Jf  Lillian  felt  any  disappointment  she  showed  none, 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  23 

"  Poor  old  thing !  "  she  said  softly.  "  Sit  here  by  me, 
and  we  won't  bother  about  anything."  She  made  a 
place  for  him  beside  her,  and  as  he  dropped  into  it  she 
took  his  hand  and  patted  it  sympathetically. 

The  touch  was  soothing,  and  he  bore  it  patiently 
enough.  After  a  moment  she  lifted  the  hand  with  a 
little  exclamation  of  reproof. 

"  You  degenerate  person !  You  have  ceased  to  mani- 
cure. What  has  become  of  my  excellent  training  ?  " 

Chilcote  laughed.  "  Run  to  seed,"  he  said  lightly. 
Then  his  expression  and  tone  changed. 

"  When  a  man  gets  to  my  age,"  he  added,  "  little  so- 
cial luxuries  don't  seem  worth  while;  the  social  neces- 
sities are  irksome  enough.  Personally,  I  envy  the  beg- 
gar in  the  street — exempt  from  shaving,  exempt  from 
washing " 

Lillian  raised  her  delicate  eyebrows.  The  sentiment 
was  beyond  her  perception. 

"  But  manicuring !  "  she  said  reproachfully.  "  When 
you  have  such  nice  hands !  It  was  your  hands  and  your 
eyes,  you  know,  that  first  appealed  to  me."  She  sighed 
gently,  with  a  touch  of  sentimental  remembrance.  "  I 
thought  it  so  strong  of  you  not  to  wear  rings — it  must 
be  such  a  temptation."  She  looked  down  at  her  own 
fingers,  glittering  with  jewels. 

But  the  momentary  pleasure  of  her  touch  was  gone. 
Chilcote  drew  away  his  hand  and  picked  up  the  book 
that  lay  between  them. 

"'Other  Men's  Shoes'!"  he  read.  "A  novel,  of 
course  ?  " 

She  smiled.  "  Of  course.  Such  a  fantastic  story. 
Two  men  changing  identities." 

Chilcote  rose  and  walked  back  to  the  mantelpiece. 

"  Changing  identities  ?  "  he  said,  with  a  touch  of  in- 
terest. 

"  Yes.  One  man  is  an  artist,  the  other  a  millionaire ; 
one  wants  to  know  what  fame  is  like,  the  other  wants 
to  know  how  it  feels  to  be  really  sinfully  rich.  So  they 
exchange  experiences  for  a  month."  She  laughed. 

Chilcote  laughed  as  well.    "  But  how  ?  "  he  asked. 


24  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  Oh,  I  told  you  the  idea  was  absurd.  Fancy  two 
people  so  much  alike  that  neither  their  friends  nor  their 
servants  can  see  any  difference!  Such  a  thing  couldn't 
be,  could  it  ?  " 

Chilcote  looked  down  at  the  fire.  "  No,"  he  said 
doubtfully.  "  No.  I  suppose  not." 

"  Of  course  not.  There  are  likenesses,  but  not  freak 
likenesses  like  that." 

As  she  spoke  Chilcote's  head  was  bent,  but  at  the  last 
words  he  lifted  it. 

"  By  Jove !  I  don't  know  about  that !  "  he  said.  "Not 
so  very  long  ago  I  saw  two  men  so  much  alike  that 
I — I "  He  stopped. 

Lillian  smiled. 

He  colored  quickly.     "  You  doubt  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  My  dear  Jack !  "  Her  voice  was  delicately  reproach- 
ful. 

"  Then  you  think  that  my — my  imagination  has  been 
playing  me  tricks  ?  " 

"  My  dear  boy !  Nothing  of  the  kind.  Come  back 
to  your  place  and  tell  me  the  whole  tale  ?  "  She  smiled 
again,  and  patted  the  couch  invitingly. 

But  Chilcote's  mental  balance  had  been  upset.  For 
the  first  time  he  saw  Lillian  as  one  of  the  watchful, 
suspecting  crowd  before  which  he  was  constantly  on 
his  guard.  Acting  on  the  sensation,  he  moved  sud- 
denly towards  the  door. 

"  I — I  have  an  appointment  at  the  House,"  he  said 
quickly.  "  I'll  look  in  another  day  when — when  I'm 
better  company.  I  know  I'm  a  bear  to-day.  My  nerves, 
you  know ! "  He  came  back  to  the  couch  and  took  her 
hand ;  then  he  touched  her  cheek  for  an  instant  with  his 
fingers. 

"  Good-bye !  "  he  said.  "  Take  care  of  yourself — and 
the  kitten ! "  he  added  with  forced  gaiety  as  he  crossed 
the  room. 


That  afternoon  Chilcote's  nervous  condition  reached 
its  height.     All  day  he  had  avoided  the  climax,  but  no 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  26 

such  evasion  can  be  everlasting;  and  this  he  realized  as 
he  sat  in  his  place  on  the  Opposition  benches  during  the 
half-hour  of  wintry  twilight  that  precedes  the  turning 
on  of  the  lights  in  the  House  of  Commons.  He  realized 
it  in  that  half-hour,  but  the  application  of  the  knowl- 
edge followed  later,  when  the  time  came  for  him  to 
question  the  Government  upon  some  point  relating  to 
a  proposed  additional  dry-dock  at  Talkley,  the  naval 
base.  Then  for  the  first  time  he  knew  that  the  suffer- 
ings of  the  past  months  could  have  a  visible  as  well  as 
a  hidden  side — could  disorganize  his  daily  routine  as 
they  had  already  demoralized  his  will  and  character. 

The  thing  came  upon  him  with  extraordinary  lack  of 
preparation.  He  sat  through  the  twilight  with  tolerable 
calm,  his  nervousness  only  showing  in  the  occasional 
lifting1  of  his  hand  to  his  collar  and  the  frequent  chang- 
ing of  his  position ;  but  when  the  lights  were  turned  on 
and  he  leant  back  in  his  seat  with  closed  eyes,  he  became 
conscious  of  a  curious  impression, — the  disturbing  idea 
that,  through  his  closed  lids,  he  could  see  the  faces  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  House — see  the  rows  of  eyes, 
sleepy,  interested  or  vigilant.  Never  before  had  the  sen- 
sation presented  itself,  but  once  set  up  it  ran  through  all 
his  susceptibilities.  By  an  absurd  freak  of  fancy  those 
varying  eyes  seemed  to  pierce  through  his  lids,  almost 
through  his  eyeballs.  The  cold  perspiration  that  had 
become  his  daily  dread  broke  out  on  his  forehead ;  and 
at  the  same  moment  Fraide  his  leader  turned,  and  lean- 
ing over  the  back  of  his  seat,  touched  his  knee. 

Chilcote  started  and  opened  his  eyes.  "  I — I  believe  I 
was  dozing,"  he  said  confusedly. 

Fraide  smiled  his  dry,  kindly  smile.  "  A  fatal  admis- 
sion for  a  member  of  the  Opposition,"  he  said.  "  But  I 
was  looking  for  you  earlier  in  the  day,  Chilcote.  There 
is  something  behind  this  Persian  affair.  You  big  trad- 
ing people  will  have  to  keep  your  eyes  open." 

Chilcote  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  said.  "  I  scarcely  believe  in 
it.  Lakeley  put  a  match  to  the  powder  in  '  The  St. 
George's/  but  'twill  only  be  a  noise  and  a  puff  of  smoke." 


26  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

But  Fraide  did  not  smile.  "  What  is  the  feeling  down 
at  Wark?"  he  asked. 

"  At  Wark  ?  Oh,  I — I  don't  quite  know.  I  have  been 
a  little  out  of  touch  with  Wark  in  the  last  few  weeks. 
A  man  has  so  many  private  affairs  to  look  to—  "  He 
was  uneasy  under  his  chief's  scrutiny. 

Fraide's  lips  parted  as  if  to  make  reply,  but  with  a 
certain  dignified  reticence  he  closed  them  again  and 
turned  away. 

Chilcote  leant  back  in  his  place  and  furtively  passed 
his  hand  over  his  forehead.  His  mind  was  possessed  by 
one  consideration — the  consideration  of  himself.  He 
glanced  down  the  crowded,  lighted  House  to  the  big  glass 
doors ;  he  glanced  about  him  at  his  colleagues,  indifferent 
or  interested;  then  surreptitiously  his  fingers  strayed  to 
his  waistcoat  pocket. 

Usually  he  carried  his  morphia  tabloids  with  him,  but 
to-day  by  a  lapse  of  memory  he  had  left  them  at  home. 
He  knew  this,  nevertheless  he  continued  to  search,  while 
the  need  of  the  drug  rushed  through  him  with  a  sense 
of  physical  sickness.  He  lost  hold  on  the  business  of 
the  House;  unconsciously  he  half  rose  from  his  seat. 

The  man  next  him  looked  up.  "  Hold  your  ground, 
Chilcote,"  he  said.  "  Rayforth  is  drying  up." 

With  a  wave  of  relief  Chilcote  dropped  back  into  his 
place.  Whatever  the  confusion  in  his  mind,  it  was  evi- 
dently not  obvious  in  his  face. 

Rayforth  resumed  his  seat,  there  was  the  usual  slight 
stir  and  pause,  then  Vyse,  the  member  for  Salchester, 
rose. 

With  Vyse's  first  words  Chilcote's  hand  again  sought 
his  pocket  and  again  his  eyes  strayed  toward  the  doors, 
but  Fraide's  erect  head  and  stiff  back  just  in  front  of 
him  held  him  quiet.  With  an  effort  he  pulled  out  his 
notes  and  smoothed  them  nervously,  but  though  his  gaze 
was  fixed  on  the  pages  not  a  line  of  Blessington's  clear 
writing  reached  his  mind.  He  glanced  at  the  face  of  the 
Speaker,  then  at  the  faces  of  the  men  on  the  Treasury 
Bench,  then  once  more  he  leant  back  in  his  seat. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  27 

The  man  beside  him  saw  the  movement.  "  Funking 
the  dry  dock?"  he  whispered  jestingly. 

"  No,"  Chilcote  turned  to  him  suddenly,  "  but  I  feel 
beastly — have  felt  beastly  for  weeks." 

The  other  looked  at  him  more  closely.  "  Anything 
wrong  ? "  he  asked.  It  was  a  novel  experience  to  be 
confided  in  by  Chilcote. 

"  Oh,  it's  the  grind — the  infernal  grind."  As  he  said 
it,  it  seemed  to  him  suddenly  that  his  strength  gave  way, 
He  forgot  his  companion — his  position — everything  ex- 
cept the  urgent  instinct  that  filled  mind  and  body. 
Scarcely  knowing  what  he  did,  he  rose  and  leant  for- 
ward to  whisper  in  Fraide's  ear. 

Fraide  was  seen  to  turn,  his  thin  face  interested  and 
concerned;  then  he  was  seen  to  nod  once  or  twice  in 
acquiescence,  and  a  moment  later  Chilcote  stepped  quietly 
out  of  his  place. 

One  or  two  men  spoke  to  him  as  he  hurried  from  the 
House,  but  he  shook  them  off  almost  uncivilly,  and  mak- 
ing for  the  nearest  exit,  hailed  a  cab. 

The  drive  to  Grosvenor  Square  was  a  misery.  Time 
after  time  he  changed  from  one  corner  of  the  cab  to 
the  other — his  acute  internal  pains  prolonged  by  every 
delay  and  increased  by  every  motion.  At  last,  weak  in 
all  his  limbs,  he  stepped  from  the  vehicle  at  his  own 
door. 

Entering  the  house,  he  instantly  mounted  the  stairs 
and  passed  to  his  own  rooms.  Opening  the  bedroom 
door,  he  peered  in  cautiously.  The  lights  had  been 
switched  on,  but  the  room  was  empty.  With  a  nervous 
excitement  scarcely  to  be  kept  in  check,  he  entered,  shut 
and  locked  the  door;  then,  moving  to  the  wardrobe, 
opened  it  and  drew  the  tube  of  tabloids  from  its  shelf. 

His  hand  shook  violently  as  he  carried  the  tube  to  the 
table.  The  strain  of  the  day,  the  anxiety  of  the  past 
hours  with  their  final  failure,  had  found  sudden  expres- 
sion. Mixing  a  larger  dose  than  he  had  ever  before  al- 
lowed himself,  he  swallowed  it  hastily  and  walking 
across  the  room,  threw  himself,  fully  dressed,  upon  the 
bed. 


28  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

CHAPTER  IV. 

To  those  whose  sphere  lies  in  the  west  of  London,  Fleet 
Street  is  little  more  than  a  name,  and  Clifford's  Inn  a 
mere  dead  letter.  Yet  Clifford's  Inn  lies  as  safely  stowed 
away  in  the  shadow  of  the  Law  Courts  as  any  grave  un- 
der a  country  church  wall;  it  is  as  green  of  grass,  as 
gray  of  stone,  as  irresponsive  to  the  passing  footstep. 

Facing  the  railed-in  grass  plot  of  its  little  court,  stood 
the  house  in  which  John  Loder  had  his  rooms.  Taken 
at  a  first  glance,  the  house  had  the  deserted  air  of  an  of- 
fice, inhabited  only  in  the  daylight  hours ;  but  as  night 
fell,  lights  would  be  seen  to  show  out,  first  on  one  floor, 
then  on  another — faint  beacons  of  humanity,  uncon- 
sciously signalling  each  other.  The  rooms  he  inhabited 
were  on  the  highest  floor  and  from  their  windows  one 
might  gaze  philosophically  on  the  tree-tops,  forgetting 
the  uneven  pavement  and  the  worn  railing  that  hemmed 
them  round.  On  the  outside  of  the  door  his  name  ap- 
peared, but  the  paint  had  been  soiled  by  time  and  the 
letters  for  the  most  part  reduced  to  shadows.  On  the 
whole,  taken  in  conjunction  with  the  gaunt  staircase  and 
bare  walls,  the  place  had  a  cheerless  look. 

Inside,  however,  the  effect  was  somewhat  mitigated. 
The  room  on  the  right  hand  as  one  entered  the  small 
passage  that  served  as  hall,  was  of  fair  size  though  low- 
ceiled.  The  paint  of  the  wall  panelling,  like  the  name 
above  the  outer  door,  had  long  ago  been  worn  to  a  dirty 
and  nondescript  hue,  and  the  floor  was  innocent  of  car- 
pet ;  yet  in  the  middle  of  the  room  stood  a  fine  old  Crom- 
well table,  and  on  the  plain  deal  book-shelves  and  along 
the  mantelpiece  were  some  valuable  books — political  and 
historical  for  the  most  part.  There  were  no  curtains  on 
the  windows,  and  a  common  reading-lamp  with  a  green 
shade  stood  on  a  desk.  It  was  the  room  of  a  man  with 
few  hobbies  and  no  pleasures — who  existed  because  he 
was  alive,  and  worked  because  he  must. 

Three  nights  after  the  great  fog,  John  Loder  sat  by 
his  desk  in  the  light  of  the  green-shaded  lamp.  The 
remains  of  a  frugal  supper  stood  on  the  center  table,  and 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  29 

in  the  grate  a  small  and  economical-looking  fire  was 
burning. 

Having  written  for  close  on  two  hours,  Loder  pushed 
back  his  chair  and  stretched  his  cramped  fingers;  then 
he  yawned,  rose  and  slowly  walked  across  the  room. 
Reaching  the  mantelpiece,  he  took  a  pipe  from  the  pipe- 
rack  and  some  tobacco  from  the  jar  that  stood  behind 
the  books.  His  face  looked  tired  and  a  little  worn,  as  is 
common  with  men  who  have  worked  long  at  an  uncon- 
genial task.  Shredding  the  tobacco  between  his  hands, 
he  slowly  filled  his  pipe,  then  lighted  it  from  the  fire  with 
a  spill  of  twisted  paper. 

Almost  at  the  moment  that  he  applied  the  light,  the 
sound  of  steps  mounting  the  uncarpeted  stairs  outside 
caught  his  attention,  and  he  raised  his  head  to  listen. 

Presently  the  steps  halted,  and  he  heard  a  match  struck. 
The  visitor  was  evidently  uncertain  of  his  whereabouts. 
Then  the  steps  moved  forward  again  and  paused  outside 
the  door. 

An  expression  of  surprise  crossed  Loder's  face,  and 
he  laid  down  his  pipe.  As  the  visitor  knocked,  he  walked 
quietly  across  the  room  and  opened  the  door. 

The  passage  outside  was  dark,  and  the  new-comer 
drew  back  before  the  light  from  the  room. 

"  Mr.  Loder ?  "  he  began  interrogatively.  Then 

all  at  once  he  laughed  in  embarrassed  apology. 

"  Forgive  me !  "  he  said.  "  The  light  rather  dazzled 
me.  I  didn't  realize  that  it  was  you." 

With  a  quickness  of  intuition  unusual  to  him,  Loder 
recognized  the  voice  as  belonging  to  his  acquaintance  of 
the  fog. 

"  Oh,  it's  you !  "  he  said.  "  Won't  you  come  in?  "  His 
voice  was  a  little  cold.  This  sudden  resurrection  left 
him  surprised — and  not  quite  pleasantly  surprised.  He 
walked  slowly  back  to  the  fireplace,  followed  by  his 
guest. 

The  guest  seemed  nervous  and  agitated.  "  I  must 
apologize  for  the  hour  of  my  visit,"  he  said.  "  My — my 
time  is  not  quite  my  own." 


30  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Loder  waved  his  hand,  "Whose  time  is  his  own?" 
he  asked. 

Chilcote,  encouraged  by  the  remark,  drew  nearer  to 
the  fire.  Until  this  moment  he  had  refrained  from  look- 
ing directly  at  his  host ;  now,  however,  he  raised  his  eyes 
and  despite  his  preparedness  he  recoiled  unavoidably  be- 
fore the  extraordinary  resemblance.  Seen  here,  in  the 
casual  surroundings  of  a  badly  furnished  and  crudely 
lighted  room,  it  was  even  more  astounding  than  it  had 
been  in  the  mystery  of  the  fog. 

"  Forgive  me !  "  he  said  again.  "  It's  physical — purely 
physical.  I'm  bowled  over  against  my  will." 

Loder  smiled.  The  slight  contempt  that  Chilcote  had 
first  inspired  rose  again,  and  with  it  a  second  feeling  less 
easily  defined.  The  man  seemed  so  unstable,  so  incapable 
— yet  so  grotesquely  suggestive  of  himself. 

"  The  likeness  is  overwhelming,"  he  said,  "  but  not 
heavy  enough  to  sink  under.  Come  nearer  the  fire. 
What  brought  you  here  ?  Curiosity  ?  "  There  was  a 
wooden  arm-chair  by  the  hearth.  He  indicated  it  with 
a  wave  of  the  hand ;  then  turned  and  took  up  his  smoul- 
dering pipe. 

Chilcote,  watching  him  furtively,  obeyed  the  gesture 
and  sat  down. 

"  It  is  extraordinary !  "  he  said,  as  if  unable  to  dismiss 
the  subject.  "It — it  is  quite  extraordinary!" 

The  other  glanced  round.  "  Let's  drop  it,"  he  said 
curtly.  "  It's  so  confoundly  obvious."  Then  his  tone 
changed. 

"Won't  you  smoke?"  he  asked. 

"  Thanks ! "  Chilcote  began  to  fumble  for  his  cigar- 
ettes. 

But  his  host  forestalled  him.  Taking  a  box  from  the 
mantelpiece,  he  held  it  out. 

"  My  one  extravagance !  "  he  said  ironically.  "  My 
resources  bind  me  to  one,  and  I  think  I  have  made  a  wise 
selection.  It  is  about  the  only  vice  we  haven't  to  pay 
for  six  times  over."  He  glanced  sharply  at  the  face  so 
absurdly  like  his  own,  and  lighting  a  fresh  spill,  held  it 
toward  his  guest 


THE  MASOUERADERS.  31 

Chilcote  moistened  his  cigarette  and  leant  forward.  In 
the  flare  of  the  paper  his  face  looked  set  and  anxious, 
but  Loder  saw  that  the  lips  did  not  twitch  as  they  had 
done  on  the  previous  occasion  that  he  had  given  him  a 
light ;  and  a  look  of  comprehension  crossed  his  eyes. 

"  What  will  you  drink  ?  Or  rather,  will  you  have  a 
whisky?  I  keep  nothing  else.  Hospitality  is  one  of 
the  debarred  luxuries." 

Chilcote  shook  his  head.  "  I  seldom  drink.  But  don't 
let  that  deter  you." 

Loder  smiled.  "  I  have  one  drink  in  the  twenty-four 
hours — generally  at  two  o'clock,  when  my  night's  work 
is  done.  A  solitary  man  'has  to  look  where  he  is  go- 
ing." 

"You  work  till  two?" 

"  Two— or  three." 

Chilcote's  eyes  wandered  to  the  desk.  "You  write?" 
he  asked. 

The  other  nodded. 

"  Books  ?  "     Chilcote's  tone  was  tinged  with  anxiety. 

Loder  laughed,  and  the  bitter  note  showed  in  his 
voice. 

"  No— not  books,"  he  said. 

The  other  leant  back  in  his  chair  and  passed  his  hand 
across  his  face.  The  strong  wave  of  satisfaction  that 
the  words  woke  in  him  was  difficult  to  conceal. 

"  What  is  your  work  ?  " 

Loder  turned  aside.  "  You  musn't  ask  that,"  he  said 
shortly.  "  When  a  man  has  only  one  capacity,  and  that 
capacity  no  outlet,  he  is  apt  to  run  to  seed  in  a  wrong  di- 
rection. I  cultivate  weeds — at  abominable  labor  and 
small  reward."  He  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  fac- 
ing his  visitor;  his  attitude  was  a  curious  blending  of 
pride,  defiance,  and  despondency. 

Chilcote  leant  forward  again.  "  Why  speak  of  your- 
self like  that?  You  are  a  man  of  intelligence  and  edu- 
cation." He  spoke  questioningly,  anxiously. 

"  Intelligence  and  education !  "  Loder  laughed.  "  Lon- 
don is  cemented  with  intelligence.  And  education! 
What  is  education?  The  court-dress  necessary  to  pres- 


32  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

entation;  the  wig  and  gown  necessary  to  the  barrister. 
But  do  the  wig  and  gown  invariably  mean  briefs?  Or 
the  court-dress  royal  favor  ?  Education  is  the  accessory ; 
it  is  influence  that  is  the  essential.  You  should  know 
that." 

Chilcote  mtoved  restlessly.  "  You  talk  bitterly,"  he 
said. 

The  other  looked  up.  "  I  think  bitterly — which  is 
worse.  I  am  one  of  those  unlucky  beggars  who,  in  the 
expectation  of  money,  have  been  denied  a  profession, 
even  a  trade,  to  which  to  cling  in  time  of  shipwreck,  and 
who  inevitably  drift  out  to  sea.  I  warned  you  the  other 
night  to  steer  clear  of  me.  I  come  under  the  head  of 
flotsam." 

Chilcote's  face  lighted.  "  You  came  a  cropper  ?  "  he 
asked. 

"  No.  It  was  somebody  else  who  came  the  cropper. 
I  dealt  in  results." 

"Big  results?" 

"  A  drop  from  a  probable  eighty  thousand  pounds  to 
a  certain  eight  hundred." 

"  And  you  ?  How  did  you  take  it  ?  "  The  question 
involuntarily  escaped  Chilcote. 

"  I ?  Oh,  I  was  twenty-five  then.  I  had  a  good 

many  hopes  and  a  good  deal  of  pride;  but  there  is  no 
place  for  either  in  a  working  world." 

"  But  your  people  ?  " 

"  My  last  relation  died  with  the  fortune." 

"Your  friends?" 

Loder  laid  down  his  pipe.  "  I  told  you  I  was  twenty- 
five,"  he  said  with  tEe  tinge  of  humor  that  sometimes 
crossed  his  manner.  "  Doesn't  that  explain  things  ?  I 
had  never  taken  favors  in  prosperity ;  a  change  of  fortune 
was  not  likely  to  alter  my  ways.  As  I  have  said,  I  was 
twenty-five."  He  smiled.  "When  I  realized  my  posi- 
tion, I  sold  my  belongings  with  the  exception  of  a  table 
and  a  few  books.  I  put  on  a  walking  suit  and  let  my 
beard  grow ;  then,  with  my  entire  capital  in  my  pocket, 
I  left  England  without  saying  good-bye  to  any  one." 

"  For  how  long?" 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  33 

"  Oh,  for  six  years.  I  wandered  half  over  Europe 
and  through  a  good  bit  of  Asia  in  the  time." 

"And  then?" 

"  Oh,  then  I  shaved  off  the  beard,  came  back  to  Lon- 
don and  reclaimed  the  belongings  I  had  stored."  He 
looked  at  Chilcote,  partly  contemptuous,  partly  amused 
at  his  curiosity. 

But  Chilcote  sat  staring  at  him  in  silence.  The  domi- 
nation of  his  personality  and  the  futility  of  his  achieve- 
ments baffled  him. 

Loder  saw  his  bewilderment. 

"  You  wonder  what  the  devil  I  came  into  the  world 
for,"  he  said  quickly.  "  I  sometimes  wonder  the  same 
myself." 

At  his  words  a  change  passed  over  Chilcote.  He  half 
rose,  then  dropped  back  into  his  seat. 

"  You  have  no  friends?  "  he  said.  "  Your  life  is  worth 
nothing  to  you  ?  " 

Loder  raised  his  head.  "  I  thought  I  had  conveyed 
that  impression." 

"  You  are  an  absolutely  free  man  ?  " 

"  No  man  is  free  who  works  for  his  bread.  If  things 
had  been  different  I  might  have  been  in  such  shoes  as 
yours — sauntering  in  legislative  by-ways.  My  hopes 
turned  that  way  once ;  but  hopes,  like  more  substantial 

things,  belong  to  the  past "  He  stopped  abruptly 

and  glanced  at  his  companion. 

The  change  in  Chilcote  had  become  more  acute:  he 
sat  fingering  his  cigarette,  his  brows  drawn  down,  his 
lips  set  nervously  in  a  conflict  of  emotions.  For  a  space 
he  stayed  very  still,  avoiding  Loder's  eyes;  then,  as  if 
decision  had  suddenly  come  to  him,  he  turned  and  met 
his  gaze. 

"  How  if  there  was  a  future,"  he  said,  "  as  well  as  a 
past?" 

CHAPTER  V. 

For  the  space  of  a  minute  there  was  silence  in  the 
room ;  then,  outside  in  the  still  night,  three  clocks  simul- 


S4  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

taneously  chimed  eleven,  and  their  announcement  was 
taken  up  and  echoed  by  half  a  dozen  others — loud  and 
faint,  hoarse  and  resonant;  for  all  through  the  hours  of 
darkness  the  neighborhood  of  Fleet  Street  is  alive  with 
chimes. 

Chilcote,  startled  by  the  jangle,  rose  from  his  seat; 
and,  as  if  driven  by  an  uncontrollable  impulse,  he  spoke 
again. 

"  You  probably  think  I  am  mad "  he  began. 

Loder  took  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth.  "  I  am  not  so 
presumptuous,"  he  said  quietly. 

For  a  space  Chilcote  eyed  him  silently,  as  if  trying  to 
gauge  his  thoughts;  then  once  more  he  broke  into 
speech : 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  I  came  to-night  to  make  a 
proposition.  When  I  have  made  it,  you'll  first  jeer  at  it — 
as  I  jeered  when  I  made  it  to  myself ;  then  you'll  see  its 

possibilities — as  I  did ;  then "  he  paused  and  glanced 

round  the  room,  "  then  you'll  accept  it — as  I  did."  In 
the  uneasy  haste  of  his  speech  his  words  broke  off  almost 
unintelligibly. 

Involuntarily  Loder  lifted  his  head,  but  the  other  put 
up  his  hand.  His  face  was  set  with  the  obstinate  deter- 
mination that  weak  men  sometimes  exhibit. 

"  Before  I  begin  I  want  to  say  that  I  am  not  drunk — 
that  I  am  neither  mad  nor  drunk."  For  almost  the  first 
time  he  looked  fully  at  his  companion  with  his  restless 
glance.  "  I  am  quite  sane — quite  reasonable." 

Again  Loder  essayed  to  speak,  but  again  the  other  put 
up  his  hand. 

"  No.  Hear  me  out.  You  told  me  something  of  your 
story.  I'll  tell  you  something  of  mine.  You'll  be  the 
first  human  being,  man  or  woman,  I  have  confided  in  for 
ten  years.  You  say  you  have  been  treated  shabbily;  I 
have  treated  myself  shabbily — which  is  harder  to  recon- 
cile. I  had  every  chance — and  I  chucked  every  chance 
away." 

There  was  a  strained  pause,  then  again  Loder  lifted 
his  head. 

"  Drugs  ?  "  he  said  very  quietly. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  36 

Chilcote  wheeled  round  with  a  scared  gesture.  "  How 
did  you  know  ?  " 

The  other  smiled.  "  It  wasn't  guessing — it  wasn't 
even  deduction.  You  told  me — or  as  good  as  told  me 
— in  the  fog,  when  we  talked  of  Lexington.  You  were 

unstrung  that  night,  and  I Well,  perhaps,  one  gets 

over-observant  from  living  alone."  He  smiled  again. 

Chilcote  collapsed  into  his  former  seat  and  passed  his 
handkerchief  across  his  forehead. 

For  a  space  his  companion  watched  him,  then  he  broke 
into  speech. 

"  Why  don't  you  pull  up  ?  "  he  said  curtly.  "  You  are 
a  young  man  still.  Why  don't  you  drop  the  thing  before 
it  gets  too  late  ?  "  His  face  was  unsympathetic,  and  be- 
low the  question  in  his  voice  there  lay  a  note  of  hard- 
ness. 

Chilcote  returned  his  glance.  The  suggestion  of  re- 
proof had  accentuated  his  pallor.  Under  his  excitement 
he  looked  ill  and  worn. 

"You  might  talk  till  Doomsday  but  every  word 
would  be  wasted,"  he  said  irritably.  "  I'm  past  praying 
for,  by  something  like  six  years." 

"  Then  why  come  here  ?  "  Loder  was  pulling  hard 
on  his  pipe.  "  I'm  not  a  dealer  in  sympathy." 

"  I  don't  require  sympathy."  Chilcote  rose  again.  He 
was  still  agitated,  but  the  agitation  was  more  restrained. 
"  I  want  a  much  more  expensive  thing  than  sympathy — 
and  I  am  willing  to  pay  for  it." 

The  other  turned  and  looked  at  him.  "  I  have  no  pos- 
session in  the  world  that  would  be  worth  a  fiver  to  you," 
he  said  coldly.  "  You  are  either  under  a  delusion  or  you 
are  wasting  my  time." 

Chilcote  laughed  nervously.  "  Wait ! "  he  said. 
"  Wait !  I  only  ask  you  to  wait.  First  let  me  sketch  you 
my  position — it  won't  take  many  words. 

"  My  grandfather  was  a  Chilcote  of  Westmoreland. 
He  was  one  of  the  first  of  his  day  and  class  to  recognize 
that  there  was  a  future  in  trade ;  so  breaking  his  own 
little  twig  from  the  family  tree,  he  went  south  to  Wark 
and  entered  a  firm  of  ship-owners.  In  thirty  years'  time 


3C  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

he  died,  the  head  of  one  of  the  biggest  firms  in  England 
— having  married  the  daughter  of  his  early  chief.  My 
father  was  twenty-four  and  still  at  Oxford  when  he  in- 
herited. Almost  his  first  act  was  to  reverse  my  grand- 
father's youthful  move,  by  going  north  and  piecing  to- 
gether the  family  friendship.  He  married  his  first  cousin ; 
and  then,  with  the  Chilcote  prestige  revived  and  the  ship- 
ping money  to  back  it,  he  entered  on  the  ambition  of  his 
life,  which  was  to  represent  East  Wark  in  the  Conserva- 
tive interest.  It  was  a  big  fight,  but  he  won — as  much 
by  personal  influence  as  any  other.  He  was  an  aristo- 
crat, but  he  was  a  keen  business  man  as  well.  The  com- 
bination carries  weight  with  your  lower  classes.  He 
never  did  much  in  the  House,  but  he  was  a  power  to  the 
party  in  Wark.  They  still  use  his  name  there  to  conjure 
with." 

Loder  leant  forward  interestedly. 

"Ah,  Robert  Chilcote?"  he  said.  "I  have  heard 
of  him.  One  of  those  fine  unostentatious  men;  strong 
in  action,  a  little  narrow  in  outlook,  but  essential  to  a 
country's  staying  power.  You  have  reason  to  be  proud 
of  your  father." 

Chilcote  laughed  suddenly.  "  How  easily  we  sum  up, 
when  a  matter  is  impersonal !  My  father  may  have  been 
a  fine  figure,  but  he  shouldn't  have  left  me  to  climb  te 
his  pedestal." 

Loder's  eyes  questioned. 

"  Don't  you  grasp  my  meaning  ?  "  Chilcote's  excite- 
ment was  rekindling.  "  My  father  died,  and  I  was  elected 
for  East  Wark.  You  may  say  that  if  I  had  no  real  in- 
clination for  the  position  I  could  have  kicked.  But  I  tell 
you  I  couldn't.  Every  local  interest — political  and  com- 
mercial— hung  upon  the  candidate  being  a  Chilcote.  I 
did  what  eight  men  out  of  ten  would  have  done.  I 
yielded  to  pressure." 

"  It  was  a  fine  opening! "    The  words  escaped  Loder. 

"  Most  prisons  have  wide  gates  1 "  Chilcote  laughed 
unpleasantly.  "  That  was  six  years  ago.  I  had  started 
on  the  morphia  tack  four  years  earlier,  but  up  to  my 
father's  death  I  had  it  under  my  thumb — or  believed  I 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  37 

had ;  and  in  the  realization  of  my  new  responsibilities  and 
the  excitement  of  the  political  fight  I  almost  put  it  aside. 
For  several  months  after  I  entered  Parliament  I  worked 
hard.  I  believe  I  made  one  speech  that  marked  me  as 
a  coming  man."  Again  he  laughed  derisively.  "  I  even 
married " 

"  Indeed !  " 

"  Yes.  A  girl  of  nineteen — the  ward  of  a  big  states- 
man. It  was  a  brilliant  marriage — politically  as  well  as 
socially.  But  it  did  not  work.  I  was  built  without  the 
capacity  for  love.  First  the  social  life  palled  on  me; 
then  my  work  grew  irksome.  There  was  only  one  fac- 
tor to  make  life  endurable — morphia.  Before  six  months 
were  out  I  had  fully  admitted  that." 

"  But  your  wife  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  wife  knew  nothing — knows  nothing.  It  is 
the  political  business — the  beastly  routine  of  the  political 
life — that's  wearing  me  out."  He  stopped  nervously, 
then  hurried  on  again.  "  I  tell  you  it's  hell  to  see  the 
same  faces,  to  sit  in  the  same  seat  day  in,  day  out,  know- 
ing that  you  must  hold  yourself  in  hand,  must  keep  youf 
grip  .on  the  reins " 

"  It  is  always  possible  to  apply  for  the  Chiltern  Hun- 
dreds." 

"  To  retire  ?  Possible  to  retire  ?  "  Once  more  Chil- 
cote  broke  into  a  loud  sarcastic  laugh.  "  You  don't  know 
what  the  local  pressure  of  a  place  like  Wark  stands  for. 
Twenty  times  I  have  been  within  an  ace  of  chucking  the 
whole  thing.  Once  last  year  I  wrote  privately  to  Vale, 
one  of  our  big  men  there,  and  hinted  that  my  health  was 
bad.  Two  hours  after  he  had  read  my  letter  he  was  in  my 
study.  Had  I  been  in  Greenland  he  would  have  looked 
me  up  with  the  same  haste  and  the  same  determination. 
No.  Resignation  is  a  meaningless  word  to  a  man  like 
me." 

Loder  looked  down.    "  I  see,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I  see." 

"  Then  you  see  everything.  The  difficulty — the  isola- 
tion of  the  position.  Five  years  ago — three — even  two 
years  ago  I  was  able  to  endure  it;  now  it  gets  more  un- 
bearable with  every  month.  The  day  is  bound  to  come 


38  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

when — when  " — he  paused,  hesitating  nervously — 
"  when  it  will  be  physically  impossible  for  me  to  be  at 
my  post." 

Loder  remained  silent. 

"  Physically  impossible,"  Chilcote  repeated  excitedly. 
"  Until  now  I  was  able  to  calculate — to  count  upon  my- 
self to  some  extent — but  yesterday  I  received  a  shock — 
yesterday  I  discovered  that — that  " — again  he  halted 
painfully — "  that  I  have  passed  the  stage  when  one  may 
calculate." 

The  situation  was  growing  embarrassing.  To  hide  its 
awkwardness,  Loder  moved  back  to  the  grate  and  re- 
built the  fire,  which  had  fallen  low. 

Chilcote,  still  excited  by  his  unusual  vehemence,  fol- 
lowed him,  taking  up  a  position  by  the  mantelpiece. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said,  looking  down. 

Very  slowly  Loder  straightened  himself.  "Well?" 
he  echoed,  studying  his  visitor. 

"  Have  you  nothing  to  say  ?  " 

"  Nothing — except  that  your  story  is  unique  and  that 
I  suppose  I  am  flattered  by  your  confidence."  His 
voice  was  intentionally  brusque. 

Chilcote  paid  no  attention  to  the  tone.  Taking  a  step 
forward,  he  laid  his  fingers  on  the  lapel  of  Loder's  coat. 

"  I  have  passed  the  stage  where  I  can  count  upon  my- 
self," he  said,  "  and  I  want  to  count  upon  somebody 
else.  I  want  to  keep  my  place  in  the  world's  eyes  and 
yet  be  free " 

Loder  drew  back  involuntarily,  contempt  struggling 
with  bewilderment  in  his  expression. 

Chilcote  lifted  his  head.  "  By  an  extraordinary 
chance,"  he  said,  "  you  can  do  for  me  what  no  other  man 
in  creation  can  do.  It  was  suggested  to  me  unconsciously 
by  the  story  of  a  book — a  book  in  which  men  change 
identities.  I  saw  nothing  in  it  at  the  time ;  but  this  morn- 
ing as  I  lay  in  bed,  sick  with  yesterday's  fiasco,  it  came 
back  to  me — it  rushed  over  my  mind  in  a  great  inspira- 
tion. It  will  save  me  and  make  you.  I'm  not  insulting 
you — though  you'd  like  to  think  so." 

Without  remark  Loder  freed  himself  and  walked  back 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  39 

to  his  desk.  His  anger,  his  pride  and,  against  his  will, 
his  excitement  were  all  aroused. 

He  sat  down,  rested  his  elbows  on  the  desk,  and  took 
his  face  between  his  hands.  The  man  beside  him  un- 
doubtedly talked  madness ;  but  after  five  years  of  dreary 
sanity  the  madness  had  a  fascination.  Against  all  rea- 
son it  stirred  and  roused  him.  For  one  instant  his  pride 
and  his  anger  faltered  before  it,  then  common  sense 
flowed  back  again  and  adjusted  the  balance. 

"  You  propose,"  he  said  slowly,  "  that  for  a  considera- 
tion of  money  I  should  trade  on  the  likeness  between  us 
— become  your  dummy,  when  you  are  otherwise  en- 
engaged  ?  " 

Chilcote  colored.     "  You  are  unpleasantly  blunt." 

"But  I  have  caught  your  meaning?" 

"  In  the  rough,  yes." 

Loder  nodded.  "  Then  take  my  advice  and  go  home," 
he  said.  "  You're  unhinged." 

Chilcote  returned  his  glance,  and  as  their  eyes  met 
Loder  was  compelled  to  admit  that  though  the  face  of 
his  companion  was  disturbed  it  had  no  traces  of  insanity. 

"  I  make  you  a  proposal,"  Chilcote  said  nervously. 
"  Do  you  accept  ?  " 

For  a  moment  Loder  was  silent,  seeking  a  sufficiently 
forcible  reply.  Taking  advantage  of  the  pause,  Chilcote 
broke  in  afresh. 

"  After  all,"  he  urged,  "  what  I  ask  of  you  is  a  simple 
thing.  Merely  to  carry  through  my  routine  duties  for  a 
week  or  two  occasionally,  when  I  find  my  endurance  giv- 
ing way — when  a  respite  becomes  essential.  The  work 
would  be  nothing  to  a  man  in  your  state  of  mind — the 
pay  anything  you  like  to  name."  In  his  eagerness  he 
had  followed  Loder  to  the  desk. 

"  Won't  you  give  me  an  answer  ?  I  told  you  I  am 
neither  mad  nor  drunk." 

Loder  pushed  back  the  scattered  papers  that  lay  be- 
fore him. 

"  Only  a  lunatic  would  propose  such  a  scheme,"  he  said 
brusquely  and  without  feeling. 

"Why?" 


40  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

The  other's  lips  parted  for  a  quick  retort;  then  in  a 
surprising  way  the  retort  seemed  to  fail  him. 

"  Oh,  because  the  thing  isn't  feasible — isn't  practicable 
from  any  point  of  view." 

Chilcote  stepped  closer.    "Why?"  he  insisted. 

"  Because  it  couldn't  work,  man!  Couldn't  hold  for  a 
dozen  hours." 

Chilcote  put  out  his  hand  and  touched  his  arm.  "  But 
why?"  he  urged.  "Why?  Give  me  one  unanswerable 
reason." 

Loder  shook  off  the  hand  and  laughed,  but  below  his 
laugh  lay  a  suggestion  of  the  other's  excitement.  Again 
the  scene  stirred  him  against  his  sounder  judgment;  but 
his  reply  when  it  came  was  firm  enough. 

"  Oh,  as  for  reasons,"  he  said ;  "  there  are  a  hundred, 
if  I  had  time  to  name  them.  Take  it,  for  the  sake  of 
supposition,  that  I  were  to  accept  your  offer.  I  should 
take  my  place  in  your  house  at — let  us  say  at  dinner- 
time. Your  man  gets  me  into  your  evening  clothes  and 
there,  at  the  very  start,  you  have  the  first  suspicion  set 
up.  He  has  probably  known  you  for  years — known  you 
until  every  turn  of  your  appearance,  voice,  and  manner 
is  far  more  familiar  to  him  than  it  is  to  you.  There  are 
no  eyes  like  a  servant's." 

"  I  have  thought  of  that.  My  servant  and  my  secre- 
tary can  both  be  changed.  I  will  do  the  thing  thor- 
oughly." 

Loder  glanced  at  him  in  surprise.  The  madness  had 
more  method  than  he  had  imagined.  Then,  as  he  still 
watched  him,  a  fresh  idea  struck  him  and  he  laughed. 

"  You  have  entirely  forgotten  one  thing,"  he  said. 
"  You  can  hardly  dismiss  your  wife." 

"  My  wife  doesn't  count." 

Again  Loder  laughed.  "  I'm  afraid  I  scarcely  agree. 

The  complications  would  be  slightly — slightly "  He 

paused. 

Chilcote's  latent  irritability  broke  out  suddenly. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  this  isn't  a  chaffing  matter. 
Don't  ridicule  the  idea.  I'm  in  dead  earnest." 

J^oder  said  nothing. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  4l 

"  Think  it  over  before  you  refuse."  Chilcote's  tone 
was  urgent 

For  a  moment  Loder  remained  motionless;  then  he 
rose  suddenly,  pushing  back  his  chair. 

"  Tush,  man !  You  don't  know  what  you  say.  The 
fact  of  your  being  married  bars  it.  Can't  you  see  that  ?  " 

Again  the  other  caught  his  arm. 

"  You  misunderstand,"  he  said.  "  You  mistake  the 
position.  I  tell  you  my  wife  and  I  are  nothing  to  each 
other.  She  goes  her  way,  I  go  mine.  We  have  our  own 
friends,  our  own  rooms;  marriage — actual  marriage — 
doesn't  enter  the  question.  We  meet  occasionally  at 
meals — and  at  other  people's  houses;  sometimes  we  go 
into  society  together  for  the  sake  of  appearances,  but  be- 
yond that  nothing.  If  you  take  up  my  life,  nobody  in 
it  will  trouble  you  less  than  Eve — I  can  promise  that." 
He  laughed  unsteadily. 

Loder's  face  remained  unmoved. 

"  Even  granting  that,"  he  said,  "  the  thing  is  still  im- 
possible." 

"Why?" 

"  There  is  the  House.  The  position  there  would  be 
untenable.  A  man  is  known  there  as  he  is  known  in  his 
own  club."  He  drew  away  from  Chilcote's  touch. 

"  Very  possibly !  Very  possibly !  "  Chilcote  laughed 
quickly  and  excitedly.  "  But  what  club  is  without  its 
eccentric  member?  I  am  glad  you  spoke  of  that.  I  am 
glad  you  raised  that  point.  A  long  time  ago  I  hit  upon 
a  reputation  for  moods  as  a  shield  for — for  other  things, 
and  the  more  useful  it  has  become  the  more  I  have  let 
it  grow.  I  tell  you,  you  might  go  down  to  the  House  to- 
morrow and  spend  the  whole  day  without  speaking  to— 
even  nodding  to — a  single  man,  and  as  long  as  you  were 
me  to  outward  appearance  no  one  would  raise  an  eye- 
brow. In  the  same  way  you  might  vote  in  my  place,  ask 
a  question,  make  a  speech  if  you  wanted  to " 

At  the  word  speech  Loder  turned  involuntarily.  For 
a  fleeting  second  the  coldness  of  his  manner  dropped 
and  his  face  changed. 


42  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Chilcote,  with  his  nervous  quickness  of  perception, 
saw  the  alteration,  and  a  new  look  crossed  his  own  face. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  he  said  quickly.  "  You  once  had  ambi- 
tions in  that  direction.  Why  not  renew  the  ambitions?" 

"  And  drop  back  from  the  mountains  into  the  gutter  ?  " 
Loder  smiled,  and  slowly  shook  his  head. 

"  Better  to  live  for  one  day  than  to  exist  for  a  hun- 
dred ! "  Chilcote's  voice  trembled  with  anxiety.  Once 
again  he  extended  his  hand  and  touched  the  other's  arm. 

This  time  Loder  did  not  shake  off  the  detaining  hand ; 
he  scarcely  seemed  to  feel  its  pressure. 

"  Look  here !  "  Chilcote's  fingers  tightened.  "  A  little 
while  ago  you  talked  of  influence.  Here  you  can  step 
into  a  position  built  by  influence.  You  might  do  all  you 
once  hoped  to  do " 

Loder  suddenly  lifted  his  head.  "  Absurd !  "  he  said. 
"  Absurd !  Such  a  scheme  was  never  carried  through." 

"  Precisely  why  it  will  succeed.  People  never  suspect 
until  they  have  a  precedent.  Will  you  consider  it — at 
least  consider  it?  Remember  if  there  is  a  risk,  it  is  I 
who  am  running  it.  On  your  own  showing  you  have  no 
position  to  jeopardize." 

The  other  laughed  curtly. 

"  Before  I  go  to-night  will  you  promise  me  to  consider 
it?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  you  will  send  me  your  decision  by  wire  to-mor- 
row. I  won't  take  your  answer  now." 

Loder  freed  his  arm  abruptly. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked. 

Chilcote  smiled  nervously.  "  Because  I  know  men — 
and  men's  temptations.  We  are  all  very  strong  till  the 
quick  is  touched;  then  we  all  wince.  It's  morphia  with 
one  man — ambition  with  another.  In  each  case  it's  only 
a  matter  of  sooner  or  later."  He  laughed  in  his  satiri- 
cal, unstrung  way  and  held  out  his  hand.  "  You  have 
my  address.  Au  revoir! " 

Loder  pressed  the  hand  for  an  instant.  "  Good-bye !  " 
he  said  meaningly.  Then  he  crossed  the  room  quietly 
and  held  the  door  open. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  43 

"  Good-bye !  "  he  said  again  as  the  other  passed  him. 

As  he  crossed  the  threshold  Chilcote  paused.  "  Au 
revoir!  "  he  corrected  with  emphasis. 

Until  the  last  echo  of  his  visitor's  steps  had  died  away, 
Loder  stood  with  his  hand  on  the  door;  then  closing  it 
quietly,  he  turned  and  looked  round  the  room.  For  a 
considerable  space  he  stood  there,  as  if  weighing  the 
merits  of  each  object ;  then  very  slowly  he  moved  to  one 
of  the  book-shelves,  drew  out  May's  "Parliamentary 
Practice,"  and  carrying  it  to  the  desk,  readjusted  the 
lamp. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

All  the  next  day  Chilcote  moved  in  a  fever  of  excite- 
ment. Hot  with  hope  one  minute,  cold  with  anxiety  the 
next,  he  rushed  with  restless  energy  into  every  task  that 
presented  itself — only  to  drop  it  as  speedily.  Twice  dur- 
ing the  morning  he  drove  to  the  entrance  of  Clifford'^ 
Inn,  but  each  time  his  courage  failed  him  and  he  returned 
to  Grosvenor  Square — to  learn  that  the  expected  mes- 
sage from  Loder  had  not  come. 

It  was  a  wearying  condition  of  mind,  but  at  worst  it 
was  scarcely  more  than  an  exaggeration  of  what  his  state 
had  been  for  months,  and  made  little  obvious  difference 
in  his  bearing  or  manner. 

In  the  afternoon  he  took  his  place  in  the  House;  but 
though  it  was  his  first  appearance  since  his  failure  of 
two  days  ago  he  drew  little  personal  notice.  When  he 
chose,  he  could  repel  advances  with  complete  success, 
and  of  late  men  had  been  prone  to  draw  away  from  him. 

In  one  of  the  lobbies  he  encountered  Fraide  sur- 
rounded by  a  group  of  friends.  With  his  usual  furtive 
haste  he  would  have  passed  on ;  but,  breaking  away  from 
his  party,  the  old  man  accosted  him.  He  was  always 
courteously  particular  in  his  treatment  of  Chilcote,  as 
the  husband  of  his  ward  and  godchild. 

"Better,  Chilcote?"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand. 

At  the  sound  of  the  low,  rather  formal  tones,  so  char- 


44  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

acteristic  of  the  old  statesman,  a  hundred  memories  rose 
to  Chilcote's  mind,  a  hundred  hours,  distasteful  in  the 
living  and  disagreeable  in  the  recollection ;  and  with  them 
the  new  flash  of  hope — the  new  possibility  of  freedom. 
In  a  sudden  rush  of  confidence  he  turned  to  Fraide. 

"  I  believe  I've  found  a  remedy  for  my  nerves,"  he 
said ;  "  I — I  believe  I'm  going  to  be  a  new  man."  He 
laughed  with  a  touch  of  excitement. 

Fraide  pressed  his  fingers  kindly.  "  That  is  right !  " 
he  said.  "  That  is  right !  I  called  at  Grosvenor  Square 
this  morning,  but  Eve  told  me  your  illness  of  the  other 
day  was  not  serious.  She  was  very  busy — she  could  only 
spare  me  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  She  is  indefatigable  over 
the  social  side  of  your  prospects,  Chilcote.  You  owe 
her  a  large  debt.  A  popular  wife  means  a  great  deal  to 
a  politician." 

The  steady  eyes  of  his  companion  disturbed  Chilcote. 
He  drew  away  his  hand. 

"  Eve  is  unique  !  "  he  said  vaguely. 

Fraide  smiled.  "  That  is  right !  "  he  said  again.  "  Ad- 
miration is  too  largely  excluded  from  modern  marriages." 
With  a  courteous  gesture  he  freed  himself,  and  turning 
away  rejoined  his  friends. 

It  was  dinner-time  before  Chilcote  could  desert  the 
House,  but  the  moment  departure  was  possible  he  hur- 
ried to  Grosvenor  Square. 

As  he  entered  the  house  the  hall  was  empty.  He  swore 
irritably  under  his  breath,  and  pressed  the  nearest  bell. 
Since  his  momentary  exaltation  in  Fraide's  presence  his 
spirits  had  fallen,  until  now  they  hung  at  the  lowest  ebb. 

As  he  waited  in  unconcealed  impatience  for  an  answer 
to  his  ring  he  caught  sight  of  his  man  Allsopp  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs. 

"  Come  here ! "  he  called,  pleased  to  find  some  one 
upon  whom  to  vent  his  irritation.  "  Has  that  wire  come 
forme?" 

"  No,  sir.    I  inquired  five  minutes  back." 

"  Inquire  again." 

"  Yes,  sir."    Allsopp  disappeared. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  45 

A  second  after  his  disappearance  the  bell  of  the  hall- 
door  whizzed  loudly. 

Chilcote  started.  All  sudden  sounds,  like  all  strong 
lights,  affected  him  curiously.  He  half  moved  to  the 
door,  then  stopped  himself  with  a  short  exclamation.  At 
the  same  instant  Allsopp  reappeared. 

His  master  turned  on  him. 

"  What's  the  devil's  the  meaning  of  this  ? "  he  said. 
"  A  battery  of  servants  in  the  house  and  no  one  to  open 
the  hall-door." 

Allsopp  looked  embarrassed.  "  Crapham  is  coming 
directly,  sir.  He  only  left  the  hall  to  ask  Jeffries " 

Chilcote  turned.  "  Damn  Crapham !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Don't  talk.  Open  the  door  yourself." 

Allsopp  hesitated — his  dignity  struggling  with  his 
obedience.  As  he  waited  the  bell  sounded  again. 

"Did  you  hear  me?" 

"  Yes,  sir."     The  man  crossed  the  hall. 

As  the  door  was  opened  Chilcote  passed  his  handker- 
chief from  one  hand  to  the  other  in  the  tension  of  hope 
and  fear ;  then,  as  the  sound  of  his  own  name  in  the  shrill 
tones  of  a  telegraph-boy  reached  his  ears,  he  let  the  hand- 
kerchief drop  to  the  ground. 

Allsopp  took  the  thin  envelope  and  carried  it  to  his 
master. 

"  A  telegram,  sir,"  he  said.  "  And  the  boy  wishes  to 
know  if  there  is  an  answer."  Picking  up  Chilcote's 
handkerchief,  he  turned  aside  with  elaborate  dignity. 

Chilcote's  hands  were  so  unsteady  that  he  could 
scarcely  insert  his  finger  under  the  flap  of  the  envelope. 
Tearing  off  a  corner,  he  wrenched  the  covering  apart 
and  smoothed  out  the  flimsy  pink  paper. 

The  message  was  very  brief: — 

"  Shall  expect  you  at  eleven  to-night.    LODER." 

He  read  it  two  or  three  times,  then  he  looked  up.  "No 
answer,"  he  said  mechanically;  and  to  his  own  ears  the 
relief  in  his  voice  sounded  strained  and  harsh. 

******* 

Exactly  as  the  clocks  chimed  eleven,  Chilcote  mounted 


46  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

the  stairs  to  Loder's  rooms.  But  this  time  there  was 
more  of  haste  than  of  uncertainty  in  his  steps,  and  reach- 
ing the  landing,  he  crossed  it  in  a  couple  of  strides  and 
knocked  feverishly  on  the  door. 

It  opened  at  once,  and  Loder  stood  before  him. 

The  occasion  was  peculiar.  For  a  moment  neither 
spoke ;  each  involuntarily  looked  at  the  other  with  new 
eyes  and  under  changed  conditions.  Each  had  assumed 
a  fresh  standpoint  in  the  other's  thought.  The  passing 
astonishment,  the  half-impersonal  curiosity  that  had  pre- 
viously tinged  their  relationship,  was  cast  aside — never 
to  be  reassumed.  In  each  the  other  saw  himself — and 
something  more. 

As  usual  Loder  was  the  first  to  recover  his  com- 
posure. 

"  Ah !  I  was  expecting  you,"  he  said.  "  Won't  you 
come  in  ?  " 

The  words  were  almost  the  same  as  the  words  of  the 
night  before,  but  his  voice  had  a  different  ring;  just  as 
his  face,  when  he  drew  back  into  the  room,  had  a  dif- 
ferent expression, — a  suggestion  of  anticipation  that  had 
been  lacking  before.  Chilcote  caught  the  difference  as 
he  crossed  the  threshold,  and  for  a  bare  second  a  flicker 
of  something  like  jealousy  touched  him.  But  the  sen- 
sation was  fleeting. 

"  I  have  to  thank  you,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand. 
He  was  too  well  bred  to  show  by  a  hint  that  he  under- 
stood the  drop  in  the  other's  principles.  But  Loder 
broke  down  the  artifice. 

"  Let's  be  straight  with  each  other — since  everybody 
else  has  to  be  deceived  " — he  said,  taking  his  visitor's 
hand.  "  You  have  nothing  to  thank  me  for — and  you 
know  it.  It's  a  touch  of  the  old  Adam.  You  tempted 
me  and  I  fell."  He  laughed,  but  below  the  laugh  ran  a 
note  of  something  like  triumph — the  curious  triumph  of 
a  man  who  has  known  the  tyranny  of  strength,  and  has 
suddenly  realized  the  freedom  of  a  weakness. 

"  You  fully  understand  the  thing  you  have  proposed  ?  " 
he  added  in  a  different  tone.  "  It's  not  too  late  to  re- 
tract— even  now." 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  47 

Chilcote  opened  his  lips,  paused,  then  laughed  in  imi- 
tation of  Loder;  but  the  laugh  sounded  forced. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said,  "  I  never  use  the  word  re- 
tract." 

"Never?" 

"  Never." 

"  Then  the  bargain's  sealed." 

Loder  walked  slowly  across  the  room,  and  taking  up 
his  position  by  the  mantelpiece,  looked  back  at  his  com- 
panion. The  similarity  between  them  as  they  faced  each 
other  seemed  abnormal — defying  even  the  closest  scru- 
tiny. And  yet — so  mysterious  is  Nature  even  in  her 
lapses,  they  were  subtly,  indefinably  different.  Chilcote 
was  Loder  deprived  of  one  essential ;  Loder,  Chilcote 
with  that  essential  bestowed.  The  difference  was  not 
physical;  it  lay  in  that  baffling,  inner  illumination  that 
some  call  individuality  and  others  soul. 

Something  of  this  idea — misted  and  tangled  by  nerv- 
ous imagination — crossed  Chilcote's  mind  in  that  moment 
of  scrutiny,  but  he  shrank  from  it  apprehensively. 

"  I — I  came  to  discuss  details,"  he  said  quickly,  cross- 
ing the  space  that  divided  him  from  his  host.  "  Shall 
we ?  Are  you ?  "  He  paused  uneasily. 

"  I'm  entirely  in  your  hands."  Loder  spoke  with  de- 
cision. Moving  to  the  table,  he  indicated  a  chair,  and 
drew  another  forward  for  himself. 

Both  men  sat  down. 

Chilcote  leant  forward,  resting  his  elapsed  hands  on 
the  table.  "  There  will  be  several  things  to  consider," 
he  began  nervously,  looking  across  at  his  companion. 

"  Quite  so."  Loder  glanced  back  appreciatively.  "  I 
thought  about  those  things  the  better  part  of  last  night. 
To  begin  with,  I  must  study  your  handwriting.  I  guar- 
antee to  get  it  right,  but  it  will  take  a  month." 

"A  month!" 

"  Perhaps  three  weeks.  We  mustn't  make  a  mess  of 
things." 

Chilcote  shifted  his  position. 

"  Three  weeks !  "  he  repeated.     "  Couldn't  you ?  " 

"  No.     I  couldn't."     The  other  spoke  authoritatively. 


48  JOHN   CHILCOTE;  OK, 

"  I  might  never  want  to  put  pen  to  paper,  but  on  the 
other  hand  I  might  have  to  sign  a  cheque  one  day."  He 
laughed.  "  Have  you  thought  of  that  ?  That  I  might 
have  to,  or  want  to,  sign  a  cheque  ?  " 

"  No.     I  confess  it  escaped  me." 

"  You  risk  your  fortune  that  you  may  keep  the  place  it 
has  bought  for  you?"  Loder  laughed  again.  "How 
do  you  know  I  am  not  a  blackguard?  How  do  you 
know  that  I  won't  clear  out  one  day  and  leave  you  high 
and  dry?  What  is  to  prevent  John  Chilcote  from  realiz- 
ing forty  or  fifty  thousand  pounds  and  then  making  him- 
self scarce?  " 

"  You  won't  do  that."  Chilcote  spoke  sharply  and 
with  unusual  decision.  "  I  told  you  your  weakness  last 
night;  it  isn't  money.  Money  isn't  the  rock  you'll  split 
over." 

"  Then  you  think  I'll  split  upon  some  rock?  But  that's 
beyond  the  question.  To  get  to  business  again — you'll 
risk  my  studying  your  signature  ?  " 

The  other  nodded. 

"  Right !  Now,  item  two."  Loder  counted  on  his 
fingers.  "  I  must  know  the  names  and  faces  of  your  men 
friends  as  far  as  I  can.  Your  women  friends  don't  count. 
While  I'm  you,  you  will  be  adamant.  But  the  men  are 
essential — the  backbone  of  the  whole  thing."  He 
laughed  again  pleasantly. 

"  I  have  no  men  friends — I  distrust  the  idea  of  friend- 
ship." 

"  Acquaintances,  then." 

Chilcote  looked  up  sharply.  "  I  think  we  score  there," 
he  said.  "  I  have  a  reputation  for  absent-mindedness 
that  will  carry  you  anywhere.  They  tell  me  I  can  look 
through  the  most  substantial  man  in  the  House  as  if  he 
were  gossamer,  though  I  may  have  lunched  with  him 
the  same  day." 

Loder  smiled.  "  By  Jove !  "  he  exclaimed  ;  "  Fate  must 
have  been  constructing  this  before  either  of  us  was  born. 
But  I  must  know  your  colleagues — even  if  it's  only  to 
cut  them.  You'll  have  to  take  me  to  the  House." 

"Impossible!" 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  49 

"Not  at  all."  Again  the  tone  of  authority  fell  to 
Loder.  "  I  can  pull  my  hat  over  my  eyes  and  turn  up 
my  coat-collar — nobody  will  notice  me.  Besides,  we  can 
choose  the  fall  of  the  afternoon.  I  promise  you  'twill  be 
all  right." 

"Suppose  the  likeness  should  leak  out?    It's  a  risk." 

Loder  laughed  confidently.  :<  Tush,  man !  Risk  is  the 
salt  of  life.  I  must  see  you  at  your  post,  and  I  must  see 
the  men  you  work  with."  He  rose,  walked  across  the 
room  and  took  his  pipe  from  the  rack.  "  If  I  do  this 
thing  I'll  do  it  well." 

The  pipe  filled,  he  resumed  his  seat,  leaning  across  the 
table  in  unconscious  imitation  of  Chilcote. 

"  Got  a  match  ?  "  he  said  laconically,  holding  out  his 
hand. 

In  response  Chilcote  drew  his  match-box  from  his 
pocket  and  struck  a  light.  As  their  hands  touched,  an 
exclamation  escaped  him. 

"  By  Jove !  "  he  said  with  a  fretful  mixture  of  disap- 
pointment and  surprise,  "  I  hadn't  noticed  that ! "  His 
eyes  were  fixed  in  annoyed  interest  on  Loder's  extended 
hand. 

Loder,  following  his  glance,  smiled.  "  Odd  that  we 
should  both  have  overlooked  it!  It  clean  escaped  my 
mind.  It's  rather  an  ugly  scar."  He  lifted  his  hand  un- 
til the  light  fell  more  fully  on  it.  Above  the  second  joint 
of  the  third  finger  ran  a  jagged  furrow — the  reminder 
of  a  wound  that  had  once  laid  bare  the  bone. 

Chilcote  leant  forward.  "  How  did  you  come  by  it?" 
he  asked. 

The  other  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Oh,  it's  ancient  history." 

"  The  results  are  present  day  enough.  It's  very  awk- 
ward !  Very  annoying !  "  Chilcote's  spirits,  at  all  times 
over-easily  played  upon,  were  damped  by  this  first  ob- 
stacle. 

Loder,  still  looking  at  his  hand,  didn't  seem  to  hear. 
"  There's  only  one  thing  to  be  done,"  he  said.  "  Each 
wear  two  rings  on  the  third  finger  of  the  left  hand. 


50  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Two  rings  ought  to  cover  it."  He  made  a  speculative 
measurement  with  the  stem  of  his  pipe. 

But  Chilcote  still  looked  irritable  and  disturbed.  "  I 
detest  rings.  I  never  wear  rings." 

Loder  raised  his  eyes  calmly.  "  Neither  do  I,"  he 
said.  "  But  there's  no  reason  for  obstinacy." 

But  the  other's  irritability  had  been  awakened.  He 
pushed  back  his  chair.  "  I  don't  like  the  idea,"  he  said. 

Loder  eyed  him  amusedly. 

"  What  a  queer  beggar  you  are !  You  waive  the 
danger  of  a  man  signing  your  cheques,  and  shy  at  wear- 
ing a  piece  of  jewelry.  I'll  have  a  fair  share  of  indi- 
viduality to  study." 

Chilcote  moved  restlessly.  "  Everybody  knows  I  de- 
test jewelry." 

"  Everybody  knows  you  are  capricious.  It's  got  to 
be  rings  or  nothing,  so  far  as  I  make  out.  We  can't 
counterfeit  the  scar." 

Chilcote  again  altered  his  position,  avoiding  the  other's 
eyes;  at  last,  after  a  struggle  with  himself,  he  looked 
up. 

"  I  suppose  you're  right ! "  he  said.  "  Have  it  your 
own  way."  It  was  his  first  small  tangible  concession 
to  the  stronger  will. 

Loder  took  his  victory  quietly. 

"Good!     Then  it's  all  straight  sailing?" 

"  Except  for  the  matter  of  the — the  remunera- 
tion  "  Chilcote  hazarded  the  word  uncertainly. 

There  was  a  faint  pause,  then  his  companion  laughed 
brusquely. 

"My  pay?" 

Chilcote  was  embarrassed.  "  I  didn't  want  to  put  it 
quite  like  that." 

"  But  that  was  what  you  thought.  Why  are  you  never 
honest — even  with  yourself?" 

Chilcote  drew  his  chair  closer  to  the  table.  He  did 
not  attend  to  the  other's  remark,  but  his  fingers  strayed 
to  his  waistcoat  pocket  and  fumbled  there. 

Loder  saw  the  gesture. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  you  are  overtaxing  yourself. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  51 

The  affair  of  the  pay  isn't  pressing;  we'll  shelve  it  to 
another  night.  You  look  tired  out." 

Chilcote  lifted  his  eyes  with  a  relieved  glance. 
"Thanks!"  he  said.  "I  do  feel  a  bit  fagged.  If  I 
may,  I'll  have  that  whisky  that  I  refused  the  other 
night." 

"  Why,  certainly."  Loder  rose  at  once  and  crossed  to 
a  cupboard  in  the  wall.  In  silence  he  brought  out  some 
whisky,  two  glasses,  and  a  bottle  of  soda-water. 

"  Say  when ! "  he  said,  lifting  the  whisky. 

"  Now,  thanks !  But  I'll  have  plain  water  instead 
of  soda,  if  it's  all  the  same." 

"  Oh,  quite."  Loder  recrossed  the  room.  Instantly 
his  back  was  turned  Chilcote  drew  a  couple  of  tabloids 
from  his  pocket  and  dropped  them  into  his  glass.  As 
the  other  came  slowly  back  he  laughed  nervously — al- 
most hysterically. 

"  Thanks !  See  to  your  own  drink  now — I  can  man- 
age this."  He  took  the  jug  unceremoniously,  and 
guarding  his  glass  from  the  light,  poured  in  the  water 
with  excited  haste. 

"What  shall  we  drink  to?"  he  said. 

Loder  methodically  mixed  his  own  drink  and  then 
lifted  the  glass.  "  Why,  to  the  career  of  John  Chil- 
cote ! "  he  answered  humorously.  "  What  other  toast 
is  possible?  " 

For  an  instant  Chilcote  hesitated.  There  was  some- 
thing prophetic  in  the  sound  of  the  words.  But  he 
shook  the  feeling  off  and  held  up  his  glass. 

"  To  the  career  of  John  Chilcote !  "  he  answered,  with 
another  high-pitched  laugh. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

It  was  a  little  less  than  three  weeks  since  Chilcote  and 
Loder  had  drunk  their  toast,  and  again  Loder  was 
seated  at  his  desk. 

His  head  was  bent  and  his  hand  moved  carefully,  as 


62  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

he  traced  line  after  line  of  meaningless  words  on  a 
sheet  of  foolscap.  Having  covered  the  page  with  writ- 
ing, he  rose,  moved  to  the  center  table,  and  compared 
his  task  with  an  open  letter  that  lay  there.  The  com- 
parison seemed  to  please  him ;  he  straightened  his  shoul- 
ders and  threw  back  his  head  in  an  attitude  of  critical 
satisfaction. 

So  absorbed  was  he,  that  when  a  step  sounded  on 
the  stairs  outside  he  did  not  notice  it,  and  only  raised 
his  head  when  the  door  was  unceremoniously  thrown 
open.  Even  then  his  interest  was  momentary. 

"Hello !  "  he  said,  his  eyes  returning  to  their  scrutiny 
of  his  task. 

Chilcote  shut  the  door  and  came  hastily  across  the 
room.  He  looked  ill  and  harassed.  As  he  reached 
Loder  he  put  out  his  hand  nervously  and  touched  his 
arm. 

Loder  looked  up.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Any 
new  development  ?  " 

Chilcote  tried  to  smile.  "  Yes,"  he  said  huskily,  "  it's 
come." 

Loder  freed  his  arm.  "  What  ?  The  end  of  the 
world?" 

"  The  end  of  me."  The  words  came  jerkily,  the 
strain  that  had  enforced  them  showing  in  every  syl- 
lable. 

Still  Loder  was  uncomprehending.  He  could  not — 
or  would  not — understand. 

Again  Chilcote  caught  and  jerked  at  his  sleeve. 
''Don't  you  see?  Can't  you  see?"  he  said. 

"  No." 

Chilcote  passed  his  handkerchief  across  his  forehead. 

"  It's  come,"  he  repeated.  "  Don't  you  understand  ? 
I  want  you."  He  drew  away,  then  stepped  back  again 
anxiously. 

"  I  know  I'm  taking  you  unawares,  but  it's  not  my 
fault.  On  my  soul,  it's  not !  The  thing  seems  to  spring 

at  me  and  grip  me "  He  stopped,  sinking  weakly 

into  a  chair. 

For   a   moment    Loder   stood   erect   and   immovable; 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  53 

then,  almost  with  reluctance,  his  glance  turned  to  the 
figure  huddled  beside  him. 

"  You  want  me  to  take  your  place  to-night — without 
preparation  ?  "  His  voice  was  distinct  and  firm. 

"  Yes.    Yes,  I  do." 

"  That  you  may  spend  the  night  in  morphia  ?  This 
and  other  nights  ?  " 

Chilcote  lifted  a  flushed,  unsettled  face.  "  You  have 
no  right  to  preach.  You  accepted  the  bargain." 

Loder  raised  his  head  quickly.  "  I  never "  he 

began ;  then  both  his  face  and  voice  altered. 

"  You  are  quite  right,"  he  said  coldly.  "  You  won't 
have  to  complain  again." 

Chilcote  stirred  uncomfortably.  "  My  dear  chap,  I 
meant  no  offense.  It's  merely " 

"  Your  nerves.  I  know.  But  come  to  business.  What 
am  I  to  do?" 

Chilcote  rose  excitedly.  "  Yes,  business.  Let's  come 
to  business.  It's  rough  on  you,  taking  you  short  like 
this.  But  you  have  an  erratic  person  to  deal  with. 
I've  had  a  horrible  day — a  horrible  day."  His  face  had 
paled  again,  and  in  the  green  lamplight  it  possessed  a 
grayish  hue.  Involuntarily  Loder  turned  away. 

Chilcote  watched  him  as  he  passed  to  the  desk  and 
began  mechanically  to  sort  his  papers. 

"  A  horrible  day ! "  he  repeated.  "  So  bad  that  I 
daren't  face  the  night.  You've  read  De  Quincey  ?  "  he 
asked,  with  a  sudden  change  of  tone. 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  read  him  again  and  you'll  understand.  I  have 
all  the  horrors — without  any  art.  I  have  no  '  Ladies  of 
Sorrow,'  but  I  have  worse  monsters  than  his  '  croco- 
dile.' "  He  laughed  wildly  and  unpleasantly. 

Loder  turned.  "  Why  in  the  devil's  name ?  "  he 

began;  then  once  more  he  halted.  Something  in  Chil- 
cote's  drawn,  excited  face  checked  him.  The  strange 
suggestion  of  predestination  that  we  sometimes  see  in 
the  eyes  of  another  struck  cold  upon  him,  chilling  his 
last  attempt  at  remonstrance. 


54  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  low- 
ered voice. 

The  words  steadied  Chilcote.  He  laughed  a  little. 
The  laugh  was  still  shaky,  but  it  was  pitched  in  a  lower 
key. 

"  You — you're  quite  right  to  pull  me  up !  We  have 
no  time  to  waste.  It  must  be  one  o'clock."  He  drew 
out  his  watch,  walked  to  the  window,  and  stood  look- 
ing down  into  the  shadowy  court. 

"  How  quiet  you  are  here !  "  he  said.  Then  abruptly 
a  new  thought  struck  him,  and  he  wheeled  back  into  the 
room. 

"  Loder !  "  he  said  quickly.  "  Loder,  I  have  an  idea ! 
While  you  are  me,  why  shouldn't  I  be  you?  Why 
shouldn't  I  be  John  Loder  instead  of  the  vagrant  we 
contemplated?  It  covers  everything — it  explains  every- 
thing. It's  magnificent !  I'm  amazed  we  never  thought 
of  it  before." 

Loder  was  still  beside  the  desk.  "  I  thought  of  it," 
he  said,  without  looking  back. 

"And  didn't  suggest  it?" 

"  No." 

"Why?" 

There  was  silence,  and  Chilcote  colored  quickly. 

"  Jealous  of  your  reputation  ?  "  he  said. 

"  I  have  none  to  be  jealous  of." 

Chilcote  laughed  disagreeably.  "  Then  you  aren't 
so  far  gone  in  philosophy  as  I  thought.  You  have  still 
a  niche  in  your  own  good  opinion." 

Again  Loder  was  silent  for  a  moment;  at  last  he 
smiled.  "  You  have  an  oddly  correct  perception  at 
times,"  he  said.  "  I  suppose  I  have  had  a  lame  sort  of 
pride  in  keeping  my  name  clean.  But  pride  like  that  is 
out  of  fashion — and  I've  got  to  float  with  the  tide." 
He  laughed — the  short  laugh  that  Chilcote  had  heard 
once  or  twice  before — and,  crossing  the  room,  he  paused 
by  his  visitor's  side. 

"  After  all,"  he  said,  "  what  business  have  I  with 
pride — straight  or  lame.  Have  my  identity  if  you 
want  it.  When  all  defenses  have  been  broken  down, 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  55 

one  barrier  won't  save  the  town."  Laughing  again,  he 
laid  his  hand  on  the  other's  arm.  "  Come ! "  he  said. 
"  Give  your  orders.  I  capitulate." 


An  hour  later  the  two  men  passed  from  Loder's  bed- 
room, where  the  final  arrangements  had  been  completed, 
back  into  the  sitting-room.  Loder  came  first  in  fault- 
less evening  dress.  His  hair  was  carefully  brushed,  the 
clothes  he  wore  fitted  him  perfectly.  To  any  glance — 
critical  or  casual — he  was  the  man  who  had  mounted 
the  stairs  and  entered  the  rooms  earlier  in  the  evening. 
Chilcote's  manner  of  walking  and  poise  of  the  head 
seemed  to  have  descended  upon  him  with  Chilcote's 
clothes.  He  came  into  the  room  hastily  and  passed  to 
the  desk. 

"  I  have  no  private  papers,"  he  said,  "  so  I  have 
nothing  to  lock  up.  Everything  can  stand  as  it  is.  A 
woman  named  Robins  comes  in  the  mornings  to  clean 
up  and  light  the  fire — otherwise  you  must  shift  for 
yourself.  Nobody  will  disturb  you.  Quiet — dead  quiet, 
is  about  the  one  thing  you  can  count  on." 

Chilcote,  half  halting  in  the  doorway,  made  an  at- 
tempt to  laugh.  Of  the  two  he  was  noticeably  the  more 
embarrassed.  In  Loder's  well-worn,  well-brushed  tweed 
suit  he  felt  stranded  on  his  own  personality,  bereft  for 
the  moment  of  the  familiar  accessories  that  helped  to 
cloak  deficiencies  and  keep  the  wheel  of  conventionality 
comfortably  rolling.  He  stood,  unpleasantly  conscious 
of  himself,  unable  to  shape  his  sensations  even  in 
thought.  He  glanced  at  the  fire,  at  the  table,  finally 
at  the  chair  on  which  he  had  thrown  his  overcoat  before 
entering  the  bedroom.  At  sight  of  the  garment  his 
gaze  brightened,  the  aimlessness  forsook  him,  and  he 
gave  an  exclamation  of  relief. 

"  By  Jove !  "  he  said.    "  I  clean  forgot." 

"What?"     Loder  looked  around. 

"  The  rings."  He  crossed  to  the  coat  and  thrust  his 
hand  into  the  pocket.  "  The  duplicates  only  arrived 
this  afternoon.  The  nick  of  time,  eh  ? "  He  spoke 


56  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

fast,  his  fingers  searching  busily.  Occupation  of  any 
kind  came  as  a  boon. 

Loder  slowly  followed  him,  and  as  the  box  was 
brought  to  light  he  leant  forward  interestedly. 

"  As  I  told  you,  one  is  a  copy  of  an  old  signet-ring, 
the  other  a  plain  band — a  plain  gold  band  like  a  wed- 
ding ring."  Chilcote  laughed  as  he  placed  the  four 
rings  side  by  side  on  his  palm.  "  I  could  think  of  noth- 
ing else  that  would  be  wide — and  not  ostentatious.  You 
know  how  I  detest  display." 

Loder  touched  the  rings.  "  You  have  good  taste," 
he  said.  "Let's  see  if  they  serve  their  purpose?"  He 
picked  them  up  and  carried  them  to  the  lamp. 

Chilcote  followed  him. 

"  That  was  an  ugly  wound !  "  he  said,  his  curiosity  re- 
awakening as  Loder  extended  his  finger.  "  How  did 
you  come  by  it  ?  " 

The  other  smiled.     "  It's  a  memento,"  he  said. 

"Of  bravery?" 

"  No.  Quite  the  reverse."  He  looked  again  at  his 
hand,  then  looked  at  Chilcote.  "  No,"  he  repeated,  with 
an  unusual  impulse  of  confidence.  "  It  serves  to  re- 
mind me  that  I  am  not  exempt — that  I  have  been  fooled 
like  other  men." 

"  Which  implies  a  woman  ?  "  Chilcote  returned  his 
glance. 

"  Yes."  Again  Loder  looked  at  the  scar  on  his  finger. 
"  I  seldom  recall  the  thing,"  he  said,  "  it's  so  absolutely 
past.  But  I  rather  like  to  remember  it  to-night.  I 
rather  want  you  to  know  that  I've  been  through  the  fire. 
It's  a  sort  of  guarantee." 

Chilcote  made  a  hasty  gesture,  but  the  other  inter- 
rupted it. 

"Oh,  I  know  you  trust  me  right  enough !  But  you're 
giving  me  a  risky  post.  I  want  you  to  see  that  women 
are  out  of  my  line — quite  out  of  it." 

"  But,  my  dear  chap " 

Loder  went  on  without  heeding.  "  This  thing  hap- 
pened eight  years  ago  at  Santasalare,"  he  said.  "  A 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  57 

little  place  between  Luna  and  Pistoria — a  mere  handful 
of  houses  wedged  between  two  hills.  A  regular  relic  of 
old  Italy,  crumbling  away  under  flowers  and  sunshine, 
with  nothing  to  suggest  the  present  century  except  the 
occasional  passing  of  a  train  around  the  base  of  one  of 
the  hills.  I  had  literally  stumbled  upon  the  place  on  a 
long  tramp  south  from  Switzerland,  and  had  been 
tempted  into  a  stay  at  the  little  inn.  The  second  night 
after  my  arrival  something  unusual  occurred.  There 
was  an  accident  to  the  train  at  the  point  where  it  skirted 
Santasalare. 

"  There  was  a  small  excitement ;  all  the  village  was 
anxious  to  help,  and  I  took  my  share.  As  a  matter  of 
fact  the  smash  was  not  disastrous :  the  passengers  were 
hurt  and  frightened,  but  nobody  was  killed."  He 
paused  and  looked  at  his  companion,  but  seeing  him  in- 
terested, went  on  again — 

"  Amongst  these  people  was  one  English  lady.  Of 
all  concerned  in  the  business,  she  was  the  least  upset 
and  almost  the  only  one  who  had  escaped  all  injury. 
When  I  came  upon  her,  she  was  sitting  on  the  shattered 
door  of  one  of  the  carriages,  calmly  rearranging  her  hat. 
On  seeing  me,  she  looked  up  with  the  most  charming 
smile  imaginable. 

" '  I  have  just  been  waiting  for  somebody  like  you/ 
she  said.  '  My  stupid  maid  has  got  herself  smashed  up 
somewhere  in  the  second-class  carriages,  and  I  have 
nobody  to  help  me  to  find  my  dog.' 

"  Of  course  that  first  speech  ought  to  have  enlight- 
ened me;  but  it  didn't.  I  only  saw  the  smile  and  heard 
the  voice;  I  knew  nothing  of  whether  they  were  deep 
or  shallow.  So  I  found  the  maid  and  found  the  dog. 
The  first  expressed  gratitude,  the  second  didn't.  I  ex- 
tricated him  with  enormous  difficulty  from  the  wreck 
of  the  luggage-van,  and  this  was  how  he  marked  his 
appreciation."  He  held  out  his  hand,  and  nodded  to- 
ward the  scar. 

Chilcote  glanced  up.     "  So  that's  the  explanation  ?  " 

"  Yes.     I  tried  to  conceal  the  thing  when  I  restored 


58  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

the  dog;  but  I  was  bleeding  abominably  and  I  failed. 
Then  the  whole  business  was  changed.  It  was  I  who 
needed  seeing  to,  my  new  friend  insisted;  I  who  should 
be  looked  after,  and  not  she.  She  forgot  the  dog  in 
the  newer  interest  of  my  wounded  finger.  The  maid, 
who  was  practically  unhurt,  was  sent  on  to  engage 
rooms  for  her  at  the  little  inn,  and  she  and  I  followed. 

"  That  walk  impressed  me.  There  was  an  attractive 
mistiness  in  the  warm  night,  a  sensation  more  than  at- 
tractive in  being  made  much  of  by  a  woman  of  one's 
own  class  and  country  after  five  years'  wandering."  He 
laughed,  with  a  touch  of  irony.  "  But  I  won't  take  up 
your  time  with  details.  You  know  the  progress  of  an 
ordinary  love  affair.  Throw  in  a  few  more  flowers  and 
a  little  more  sun  than  usual;  a  man  who  is  practically 
a  hermit  and  a  woman  who  knows  the  world  by  heart, 
and  you  have  the  whole  thing. 

"  She  insisted  on  staying  in  Santasalare  for  three 
days  in  order  to  keep  my  finger  bandaged;  she  ended 
by  staying  three  weeks,  in  the  hope  of  smashing  up  my 
life. 

"  On  coming  to  the  hotel  she  had  given  no  name ; 
and  in  our  first  explanations  to  each  other  she  led  me 
to  conclude  her  an  unmarried  girl.  It  was  at  the  end  of 
the  three  weeks  that  she  told  me  with  the  sweetest 
smile  in  the  world  that  she  was  not  a  free  agent,  as  I 
had  innocently  imagined,  but  possessed  a  husband, 
whom  she  had  left  ill  with  malaria  at  Florence. 

"  The  news  disconcerted  me — and  I  took  no  pains 
to  hide  it.  After  that,  the  end  came  abruptly.  In  her 
eyes  I  had  become  a  fool  with  middle-class  principles ; 

in  my  eyes But  there  is  no  need  for  that.  She  left 

Santasalare  the  same  night  in  a  great  confusion  of 
trunks  and  hat-boxes;  and  next  morning  I  strapped  on 
my  knapsack  and  I  turned  my  face  to  the  south." 

"  And  women  don't  count  ever  after  ? "  Chilcote 
smiled,  beguiled  out  of  himself. 

Loder  laughed.  "  That's  what  I've  been  trying  to 
convey.  Once  bitten,  twice  shy ! "  He  laughed  again, 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  59 

and  slipped  the  two  rings  over  his  finger  with  an  air 
of  finality. 

"Now",  shall  I  start?  This  is  the  latch-key?"  He 
drew  a  key  from  the  pocket  of  Chilcote's  evening 
clothes.  "  When  I  get  to  Grosvenor  Square  I  find  your 
house,  go  straight  in,  mount  the  stairs,  and  there  on 
my  right  hand  is  the  door  of  your — I  mean  my  own — 
private  rooms.  I  think  I've  got  it  all  by  heart.  I  feel 
inspired  to-night;  I  feel  that  I  can't  go  wrong."  He 
handed  the  two  remaining  rings  to  Chilcote  and  picked 
up  the  overcoat. 

"  I'll  stick  on  till  I  get  a  wire,  then  I'll  come  back 
and  we'll  reverse  again."  He  slipped  on  the  coat  and 
moved  back  toward  the  table.  Now  that  the  decisive 
moment  had  come,  it  embarrassed  him.  Scarcely  know- 
ing how  to  bring  it  to  an  end,  he  held  out  his  hand. 

Chilcote  took  it,  paling  a  little.  "  Twill  be  all  right !  " 
he  said,  with  a  sudden  return  of  nervousness.  "  'Twill 
be  all  right!  And  I've  made  it  plain  about — about  the 
remuneration?  A  hundred  a  week — beside  all  ex- 
penses." 

Loder  smiled  again.  "  My  pay  ?  Oh,  yes,  you've 
made  it  clear  as  day.  Shall  we  say  good  night  now  ?  " 

"Yes.    Good  night!" 

There  was  a  strange  distant  note  in  Chilcote's  voice, 
but  the  other  did  not  pretend  to  hear  it.  He  pressed 
the  hand  he  was  holding,  though  the  cold  dampness  of 
it  repelled  him. 

"  Good  night !  "  he  said  again. 

"  Good  night !  " 

They  stood  for  a  moment,  awkwardly  looking  at  each 
other,  then  Loder  quietly  disengaged  his  hand,  crossed 
the  room,  and  passed  through  the  doorway. 

Chilcote,  left  standing  alone  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  listened  while  the  last  sound  of  the  other's  foot- 
steps was  audible  on  the  uncarpeted  stairs;  then,  with 
a  furtive,  hurried  gesture,  he  caught  up  the  green- 
shaded  lamp  and  passed  into  Loder's  bedroom. 


60  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

To  all  men  come  portentous  moments,  difficult  mo- 
ments, triumphant  moments.  Loder  had  had  his  ex- 
amples of  all  three;  but  no  moment  in  his  career  ever 
equalled  in  strangeness  of  sensation  that  in  which — 
dressed  in  another  man's  clothes — he  fitted  the  latch- 
key for  the  first  time  into  the  door  of  the  other  man's 
house. 

The  act  was  quietly  done.  The  key  fitted  the  lock 
smoothly,  and  his  fingers  turned  it  without  hesitation, 
though  his  heart,  usually  extremely  steady,  beat  sharply 
for  a  second.  The  hall  loomed  massive  and  somber, 
despite  the  modernity  of  electric  lights.  It  was  darkly 
and  expensively  decorated  in  black  and  brown ;  a  frieze 
of  wrought  bronze,  representing  peacocks  with  out- 
spread tails,  ornamented  the  walls ;  the  banisters  were 
of  heavy  ironwork,  and  the  somewhat  formidable  fire- 
place was  of  the  same  dark  metal. 

Loder  looked  about  him,  then  advanced,  his  heart 
again  beating  quickly  as  his  hand  touched  the  cold  ban- 
ister and  he  began  his  ascent  of  the  stairs.  But  at  each 
step  his  confidence  strengthened,  his  feet  became  more 
firm,  his  hand  gained  in  sureness;  then  at  the  head  of 
the  stairs,  as  if  to  disprove  his  assurance,  his  pulses 
played  him  false  once  more — this  time  to  a  more  serious 
tune.  From  the  farther  end  of  the  well-lighted  corri- 
dor he  caught  sight  of  a  maid  coming  straight  in  his 
direction. 

For  one  short  second  all  things  seemed  to  whizz  about 
him ;  the  certainty  of  detection  overpowered  his  mind. 
The  indisputable  knowledge  that  he  was  John  Loder 
and  no  other,  despite  all  armor  of  effrontery  and  dress, 
so  dominated  him  that  all  other  considerations  shrank 
before  it.  It  wanted  but  a  word — one  simple  word  of 
denunciation — and  the  whole  scheme  was  shattered.  In 
the  dismay  of  the  moment  he  almost  wished  that  the 
word  might  be  spoken  and  the  suspense  ended. 

But  the  maid  came  on  in  silence,  and  so  incredible 
was  the  silence  that  Loder  moved  onward  too.  He 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  61 

came  within  a  yard  of  her  and  still  she  did  not  speak; 
then,  as  he  passed  her,  she  drew  back  respectfully 
against  the  wall. 

The  strain,  so  astonishingly  short,  had  been  immense; 
but  with  its  slackening,  came  a  strong  reaction.  The 
expected  humiliation  seethed  suddenly  into  a  desire  to 
dare  Fate.  Pausing  quickly,  he  turned  and  called  the 
woman  back. 

The  spot  where  he  had  halted  was  vividly  bright,  the 
drop-light  from  the  ceiling  being  directly  above  his 
head,  and  as  she  came  toward  him  he  raised  his  face 
deliberately  and  waited. 

She  looked  at  him  without  surprise  or  interest.  "  Yes, 
sir?  "  she  said. 

"  Is  your  mistress  in  ?  "  he  asked.  He  could  think  of 
no  other  question;  but  it  served  its  purpose  as  a  test  of 
his  voice. 

Still  the  woman  showed  no  surprise.  "  She's  not  in, 
sir."  she  answered.  "  But  she's  expected  in  half  an 
hour." 

"In  half  an  hour?  All  right!  That's  all  I  wanted." 
With  a  movement  of  decision  he  walked  back  to  the 
stairhead,  turned  to  the  right,  and  opened  the  door  of 
Chilcote's  rooms. 

The  door  opened  on  a  short  wide  passage.  On  one 
side  stood  the  study,  on  the  other  the  bed,  bath  and 
dressing  rooms.  With  a  blind  sense  of  knowledge  and 
unfamiliarity,  bred  of  much  description  on  Chilcote's 
part,  he  put  his  hand  on  the  study  door  and,  still  ex- 
alted by  the  omen  of  his  first  success,  turned  the  handle. 

Inside  the  room  there  was  firelight  and  lamplight  and 
a  studious  air  of  peace.  The  realization  of  this,  and  a 
slow  incredulity  at  Chilcote's  voluntary  renunciation, 
were  his  first  impressions ;  then  his  attention  was  needed 
for  more  imminent  things. 

As  he  entered,  the  new  secretary  was  returning  a 
volume  to  its  place  on  the  book  shelves.  At  sight  of 
him,  he  pushed  it  hastily  into  position  and  turned 
around. 

"  I  was  making  a  few  notes  on  the  political  position 


62  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

of  Khorasan,"  he  said,  glancing  with  slight  apprehen- 
siveness  at  Loder's  face  He  was  a  small,  shy  man, 
with  little  social  position  and  a  superfluous  amount  of 
learning, — the  antithesis  of  the  alert  Blessington  whom 
he  had  replaced. 

Loder  bore  his  scrutiny  without  flinching.  Indeed  it 
struck  him  suddenly  that  there  was  a  fund  of  interest, 
almost  of  excitement,  in  the  encountering  of  each  new 
pair  of  eyes.  At  the  thought  he  moved  forward  to 
the  desk. 

'  Thank  you,  Greening,"  he  said.  "  A  very  useful 
bit  of  work." 

The  secretary  glanced  up,  slightly  puzzled.  His  en- 
durance had  been  severely  taxed  in  the  fourteen  days 
that  he  had  filled  his  new  post. 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  so,  sir,"  he  said  hesitatingly. 
"  You  rather  pooh-poohed  the  matter  this  morning,  if 
you  remember." 

Loder  was  taking  off  his  coat,  but  stopped  in  the 
operation. 

"This  morning?"  he  said.  "Oh,  did  I?  Did  I?" 
Then,  struck  by  the  opportunity  the  words  gave  him,  he 
turned  toward  the  secretary. 

"You've  got  to  get  used  to  me,  Greening,"  he  said. 
"  You  haven't  quite  grasped  me  yet.  I'm  a  man  of 
moods,  you  know.  Up  to  the  present  you've  seen  my 
slack  side — my  jagged  side — but  I  have  quite  another 
when  I  care  to  show  it.  I'm  a  sort  of  Jekyll  and  Hyde 
affair."  Again  he  laughed,  and  Greening  echoed  the 
sound  diffidently.  Chilcote  had  evidently  discouraged 
familiarity. 

Loder  eyed  him  with  abrupt  understanding.  He  rec- 
ognized the  loneliness  in  the  anxious,  conciliatory  man- 
ner. 

"You're  tired,"  he  said  kindly.  "Go  to  bed.  I've 
got  some  thinking  to  do.  Good  night ! "  He  held  out 
his  hand. 

Greening  took  it,  still  half  distrustful  of  this  fresh 
side  of  so  complex  a  man. 

"  Good  night,  sir !  "  he  said.     "  To-morrow,  if  you 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  63 

approve,  I  shall  go  on  with  my  notes.  I  hope  you  will 
have  a  restful  night." 

For  a  second  Loder's  eyebrows  went  up,  but  he  re- 
covered himself  instantly. 

"Ah,  thanks,  Greening!"  he  said.  "Thanks!  I 
think  your  hope  will  be  fulfilled." 

He  watched  the  little  secretary  move  softly  and  apolo- 
getically to  the  door;  then  he  walked  to  the  fire,  and 
resting  his  elbows  on  the  mantelpiece,  took  his  face  in 
his  hands. 

For  a  space  he  stood  absolutely  quiet;  then  his  hands 
dropped  to  his  sides,  and  he  turned  slowly  around.  In 
that  short  time  he  had  balanced  things  and  found  his 
bearings.  The  slight  nervousness  shown  in  his  brusque 
sentences  and  over-confident  manner  faded  out,  and  he 
faced  facts  steadily. 

With  the  return  of  his  calmness,  he  took  a  long  sur- 
vey of  the  room.  His  glance  brightened  appreciatively 
as  it  traveled  from  the  walls  lined  with  well-bound 
books  to  the  lamps  modulated  to  the  proper  light;  from 
the  lamps  to  the  desk,  fitted  with  every  requirement; 
from  the  desk  to  the  chairs,  suitable  for  every  circum- 
stance of  reading,  writing,  or  meditation.  Nothing  was 
lacking.  All  he  had  once  possessed,  all  he  had  since 
dreamed  of,  was  here — but  on  a  greater  scale.  To  enjoy 
the  luxuries  of  life  a  man  must  go  long  without  them. 
Loder  had  lived  severely — so  severely  that  until  three 
weeks  ago  he  had  believed  himself  exempt  from  the 
temptations  of  humanity.  Then  the  voice  of  the  world 
had  spoken,  and  within  him  another  voice  had  answered 
with  a  tone  so  clamorous  and  insistent  that  it  had  out- 
cried his  surprised  and  incredulous  remonstrance — 
boldly  asserting  its  existence  and  its  claims.  That  had 
been  the  voice  of  suppressed  ambition,  but  now  as  he 
stood  in  the  new  atmosphere  a  newer  voice  lifted  itself. 
The  joy  of  material  things  rose  suddenly,  overbalancing 
.the  last  remnant  of  the  philosophy  he  had  reared.  He 
saw  the  objects  that  surrounded  him  in  a  fresh  light — 
the  soft  carpets,  the  soft  lights,  the  numberless  pleasant 
unnecessary  things  that  color  the  passing  landscape  and 


64  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

oil  the  wheels  of  life.  This  was  power — power  made 
manifest.  The  choice  bindings  of  one's  books,  the  quiet 
harmony  of  one's  surroundings,  the  gratifying  deference 
of  one's  dependants.  These  were  the  visible,  the  out- 
ward signs.  The  things  he  had  forgotten. 

Crossing  the  room  slowly,  he  lifted  and  looked  at  the 
different  papers  on  the  desk.  They  had  a  substantial 
feeling,  an  air  of  value  and  importance.  They  were  like 
the  solemn  keys  to  so  many  vexed  problems.  Beside 
the  papers  were  a  heap  of  letters  neatly  arranged  and 
as  yet  unopened.  He  turned  them  over  one  by  one. 
They  were  all  thick,  and  interesting  to  look  at.  He 
smiled  as  he  recalled  his  own  scanty  mail;  envelopes 
long  and  bulky  or  narrow  and  thin — unwelcome  manu- 
scripts or  very  welcome  cheques.  Having  sorted  the 
letters,  he  hesitated.  It  was  his  task  to  open  them ;  but 
he  had  never  in  his  life  opened  an  envelope  addressed 
to  another  man. 

He  stood  uncertain,  weighing  them  in  his  hand.  Then 
all  at  once  a  look  of  attention  and  surprise  crossed  his 
face,  and  he  raised  his  head.  Some  one  had  unmistak- 
ably paused  outside  the  door,  which  Greening  had  left 
slightly  ajar. 

There  was  a  moment  of  apparent  doubt,  then  a  stir  of 
skirts,  a  quick  uncertain  knock,  and  the  intruder  entered. 

For  a  couple  of  seconds  she  stood  in  the  doorway ;  then 
as  Loder  made  no  effort  to  speak,  she  moved  into  the 
room.  She  had  apparently  but  just  returned  from  some 
entertainment,  for  though  she  had  drawn  off  her  long 
gloves,  she  was  still  wearing  an  evening  cloak  of  lace  and 
fur. 

That  she  was  Chilcote's  wife,  Loder  knew  instinctively 
the  moment  she  entered  the  room ;  but  a  disconcerting 
confusion  of  ideas  was  all  that  followed  the  knowledge. 
He  stood  by  the  desk,  silent  and  awkward,  trying  to  fit 
his  expectations  to  his  knowledge.  At  last,  faced  by  the 
hopelessness  of  the  task,  he  turned  abruptly  and  looked 
at  her  again. 

She  had  taken  off  her  cloak  and  was  standing  by  the 
fire.  The  compulsion  of  moving  through  life  alone*  had 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  65 

set  its  seal  upon  her  in  a  certain  self-possession — a  cer- 
tain confidence  of  pose;  yet  her  figure  as  Loder  then 
saw  it,  backgrounded  by  the  dark  books  and  gowned  in 
pale  blue,  had  a  suggestion  of  youthfulness  that  seemed 
a  contradiction.  Epithets  of  Chilcote's,  "  cold,"  "  un- 
sympathetic," came  back  to  him  with  something  like 
astonishment.  He  felt  no  uncertainty,  no  dread  of  dis- 
covery and  humiliation  in  her  presence,  as  he  had  felt 
in  the  maid's.  Yet  there  was  something  in  her  face  that 
made  him  infinitely  more  uncomfortable.  A  look  he  could 
find  no  name  for, — a  friendliness  that  studiously  covered 
another  feeling,  whether  question,  distrust,  or  actual  dis- 
like, he  could  not  say.  With  a  strange  sensation  of  awk- 
wardness he  sorted  Chilcote's  letters,  waiting  for  her  to 
speak. 

As  if  divining  his  thought,  she  turned  towards  him. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  rather  intrude,"  she  said.  "  If  you  are 
busy " 

Loder's  sense  of  courtesy  was  touched.  He  had  begun 
life  with  a  high  opinion  of  women,  and  the  words  roused 
an  echo  of  the  old  sentiment. 

"Don't  think  that,"  he  said.  "I  was  looking 
through — my  letters.  You  mustn't  rate  yourself  below 
letters."  He  was  conscious  that  his  tone  was  hurried 
and  his  words  a  little  jagged ;  but  Eve  did  not  appear  to 
notice.  Unlike  Greening,  she  took  the  new  manner 
without  surprise.  She  had  known  Chilcote  for  six  years. 

"  I  dined  with  the  Fraides  to-night,"  she  said.  "  Mr. 
Fraide  sent  you  a  message." 

Unconsciously  Loder  smiled.  There  was  humor  in  the 
thought  of  a  message  to  him  from  the  great  Fraide.  To 
hide  his  amusement,  he  wheeled  one  of  the  big  lounge- 
chairs  forward. 

"Indeed!"  he  said.     "Won't  you  sit  down?" 

They  were  near  together  now,  and  he  saw  her  face 
more  fully.  Again  he  was  taken  aback.  Chilcote  had 
spoken  of  her  as  socially  successful  and  intelligent,  but 
never  as  beautiful.  Yet  her  beauty  was  a  rare  and  un- 
common fact.  Her  hair  was  black, — not  a  glossy  black, 
but  the  dusky  black  that  is  softer  than  any  brown, — her 


66  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

eyes  were  large  and  of  a  peculiarly  pure  blue,  and  her 
eyelashes  were  black,  beautifully  curved  and  of  remark- 
able thickness.  Loder  found  himself  noting  all  these 
things. 

"Won't  you  sit  down?"  he  said  again,  cutting  shorti 
his  thoughts  with  some  confusion. 

"  Thank  you !  "  She  gravely  accepted  the  proffered 
chair.  But  Loder  saw  that  without  any  ostentation  she 
drew  her  skirts  aside  as  she  passed  him.  The  action  dis- 
pleased him  unaccountably. 

"Well,"  he  said  shortly,  "what  had  Fraide  to  say?" 
He  walked  to  the  mantelpiece  with  his  customary  move- 
ment and  stood  watching  her.  The  instinct  toward  hiding 
his  face  had  left  him.  Her  instant  and  uninterested  ac- 
ceptance of  him  almost  nettled  him';  his  own  half-con- 
temptuous impression  of  Chilcote  came  to  him  unpleas- 
antly, and  with  it  the  first  desire  to  assert  his  own  in- 
dividuality. Stung  by  the  conflicting  emotions,  he  felt 
in  Chilcote's  pockets  for  something  to  smoke. 

Eve  saw  and  interpreted  the  action.  "  Are  these  your 
cigarettes  ? "  She  leant  towards  a  small  table  and 
picked  up  a  little  lizard-skin  box. 

"  Thanks !  "  He  took  the  box,  and  as  it  passed  from 
one  to  the  other,  he  saw  her  glance  at  his  rings.  The 
glance  was  momentary;  her  lips  parted  to  express  ques- 
tion or  surprise,  then  closed  again  without  comment. 
More  than  any  spoken  words,  the  incident  showed 
Loder  the  gulf  that  separated  husband  and  wife. 

"Well?"  he  said  again.     "What  of  Fraide?" 

At  his  words  she  sat  straighter,  and  looked  at  him 
more  directly,  as  if  bracing  herself  to  a  task. 

"  Mr.  Fraide  is — is  as  interested  in  you  as  ever,"  she 
began. 

"  Or  in  you  ?  "  Loder  made  the  interruption  precisely 
as  he  felt  Chilcote  would  have  made  it.  Then  instantly 
he  wished  the  words  back. 

Eve's  warm  skin  colored  more  deeply.  For  a  second 
the  inscrutable  underlying  expression  that  puzzled  Loder 
showed  in  her  eyes,  then  she  sank  back  into  a  corner  of 
the  chair. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  67 

"  Why  do  you  make  such  a  point  of  sneering  at  my 
friends?"  she  asked  quietly.  "I  overlook  it  when  you 
are — nervous."  She  halted  slightly  on  the  word.  "  But 
you  are  not  nervous  to-night." 

Loder,  to  his  great  humiliation,  reddened.  Except 
for  an  occasional  outburst  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Robins, 
his  charwoman,  he  had  not  merited  a  woman's  displeas- 
ure for  years. 

"  The  sneer  was  unintentional,"  he  said. 

For  the  first  time  Eve  showed  a  personal  interest.  She 
looked  at  him  in  a  puzzled  way.  "  If  your  apology  was 
meant,"  she  said  hesitatingly,  "  I  should  be  glad  to  ac- 
cept it.  But "  she  halted. 

Loder,  uncertain  of  how  to  take  the  words,  moved 
back  to  the  desk.  He  carried  an  unlighted  cigarette  be- 
tween his  fingers. 

There  was  an  interval  in  which  neither  spoke.  Then 
at  last,  conscious  of  its  awkwardness,  Eve  rose.  With 
one  hand  on  the  back  of  her  chair,  she  looked  at  him. 

"  Mr.  Fraide  thinks  it  such  a  pity  that  " — she  stopped 
to  choose  her  words — "  that  you  should  lose  hold  on 
things — lose  interest  in  things,  as  you  are  doing.  He  has 
been  thinking  a  good  deal  about  you  in  the  last  three 
weeks,  ever  since  the  day  of  your — your  illness  in  the 

House ;  and  it  seems  to  him "  Again  she  broke  off, 

watching  Loder's  averted  head.  "  It  seems  to  him  that 
if  you  made  one  real  effort  now — even  now,  to  shake  off 
your  restlessness,  that  your — your  health  might  improve. 
He  thinks  that  the  present  crisis  would  give  you  a  tre- 
mendous opportunity.  Your  trade  interests,  bound  up 
as  they  are  with  Persia,  would  give  any  opinion  you 
might  hold  a  double  weight."  Almost  unconsciously  a 
touch  of  warmth  crept  into  her  words.  "  Mr.  Fraide 
talked  very  seriously  about  the  beginning  of  your  career. 
He  said  that  if  only  the  spirit  of  your  first  days  could 
come  back."  Her  tone  grew  quicker,  as  though  she 
feared  ridicule  in  Loder's  silence.  "  He  asked  me  to  use 
my  influence.  I  know  that  I  have  little — none  perhaps; 
but  I  couldn't  tell  him  that,  and  so— so  I  promised." 


68  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  And  have  kept  the  promise  ?  "  Loder  spoke  at  ran- 
dom. Her  manner  and  her  words  had  both  affected  him. 
There  was  a  sensation  of  unreality  in  his  brain. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered.  "  I  always  want  to  do — what  I 
can." 

As  she  spoke  a  sudden  realization  of  the  effort  she 
was  making  struck  upon  him,  and  with  it  his  scorn  of 
Chilcote  rose  in  renewed  force. 

"  My  intention "  he  began,  turning  to  her.  Then 

the  futility  of  any  declaration  silenced  him. 

"  I  shall  think  over  what  you  have  said,"  he  added 
after  a  minute's  wait.  "  I  suppose  I  can't  say  more  than 
that." 

Their  eyes  met  and  she  smiled  a  little. 

"  I  don't  believe  I  expected  as  much,"  she  said.  "  I 
think  I'll  go  now.  You  have  been  wonderfully  patient." 
Again  she  smiled  slightly,  at  the  same  time  extending 
her  hand.  The  gesture  was  quite  friendly,  but  in  Loder's 
eyes  it  held  relief  as  well  as  friendliness ;  and  when  their 
hands  met  he  noticed  that  her  fingers  barely  brushed  his. 

He  picked  up  her  cloak  and  carried  it  across  the  room. 
As  he  held  the  door  open,  he  laid  it  quietly  across  her 
arm. 

"  I'll  think  over  what  you  said,"  he  repeated. 

Again  she  glanced  at  him  as  if  suspecting  sarcasm; 
then,  partly  reassured,  she  paused.  "  You  will  always 
despise  your  opportunities,  and  I  suppose  >  I  will  always 
envy  them,"  she  said.  "  That's  the  way  with  men  and 
women.  Good  night ! "  With  another  faint  smile  she 
passed  out  into  the  corridor. 

Loder  waited  till  he  heard  the  outer  door  close,  then 
he  crossed  the  room  thoughtfully  and  dropped  into  the 
chair  that  she  had  vacated.  He  sat  for  a  time  looking  at 
the  hand  her  fingers  had  touched ;  then  he  lifted  his  head 
with  a  characteristic  movement. 

"  By  Jove !  "  he  said  aloud,  "  how  cordially  she  detests 
him!" 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  69 

CHAPTER  IX. 

Loder  slept  soundly  and  dreamlessly  in  Chilcote's 
canopied  bed.  To  him,  the  big  room  with  its  severe  mag- 
nificence suggested  nothing  of  the  gloom  and  solitude 
that  it  held  in  its  owner's  eyes.  The  ponderous  furni- 
ture, the  high  ceiling,  the  heavy  curtains, — unchanged 
since  the  days  of  Chilcote's  grandfather, — all  hinted  at 
a  far-reaching  ownership  that  stirred  him.  The  owner- 
ship was  mythical  in  his  regard,  and  the  possessions  a 
mirage,  but  they  filled  the  day.  And  surely,  sufficient  for 
th«  day 

That  was  his  frame  of  mind  as  he  opened  his  eyes  on 
the  following  morning,  and  lay  appreciative  of  his  com- 
fort— of  the  surrounding  space — even  of  the  light  that 
filtered  through  the  curtain  chinks,  suggestive  of  a  world 
re-created.  With  day,  all  things  seem  possible  to  a 
healthy  man.  He  stretched  his  arms  luxuriously,  de- 
lighting in  the  glossy  smoothness  of  the  linen  sheets. 

What  was  it  Chilcote  had  said?  Better  live  for  a  day 
than  exist  for  a  lifetime!  That  was  true;  and  life  had 
begun.  At  thirty-six  he  was  to  know  it  for  the  first 
time. 

He  smiled,  but  without  irony.  Man  is  at  his  best  at 
thirty-six,  he  mused.  He  has  retained  his  enthusiasms 
and  shed  his  exuberances;  he  has  learned  what  to  pick 
up  and  what  to  pass  by;  he  no  longer  imagines  that  to 
drain  a  cup  one  must  taste  the  dregs.  He  closed  his  eyes 
and  stretched  again — not  his  arms  only  this  time,  but  his 
whole  body.  The  pleasure  of  his  mental  state  insisted 
on  a  physical  reflection.  Then,  sitting  up  in  bed,  fie 
pressed  the  electric  bell. 

Chilcote's  new  valet  responded. 

"  Pull  those  curtains,  Renwick,"  he  said.  "  What's 
the  time  ?  "  He  had  passed  the  ordeal  of  Renwick's  eyes 
the  night  before. 

The  man  was  slow — even  a  little  stupid.  He  drew 
back  the  curtains  carefully,  then  looked  at  the  small  clock 
on  the  dressing-table. 


70  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"Eight  o'clock  sir.  I  didn't  expect  the  bell  so  early, 
sir." 

Loder  felt  reproved,  and  a  pause  followed. 

"  May  I  bring  your  cup  of  tea,  sir  ?  " 

"  No.    Not  just  yet.    I'll  have  a  bath  first." 

Renwick  showed  ponderous  uncertainty. 

"  Warm,  sir  ?  "  he  hazarded. 

"  No.     Cold." 

Still  perplexed,  the  man  left  the  room. 

Loder  smiled  to  himself.  The  chances  of  discovery  in 
that  quarter  were  not  large.  He  was  inclined  to  think 
that  Chilcote  had  even  overstepped  necessity  in  the  mat- 
ter of  dulness. 

He  breakfasted  alone,  following  Chilcote's  habit,  and 
after  breakfast  found  his  way  to  the  study. 

As  he  entered,  Greening  rose  with  the  same  concilia- 
tory haste  that  he  had  shown  the  night  before. 

Loder  nodded  to  him.  "Early  at  work?"  he  said 
pleasantly. 

The  little  man  showed  instant,  almost  ridiculous  re- 
lief. "  Good  morning,  sir,"  he  said ;  "  you  are  early,  too. 
I  rather  feared  your  nerves  troubled  you  after  I  left  last 
night,  for  I  found  your  letters  still  unopened  this  morn- 
ing. But  I  am  glad  to  see  you  look  so  well." 

Loder  promptly  turned  his  back  to  the  light.  "  Oh, 
last  night's  letters ! "  he  said.  "  To  tell  you  the  truth, 
Greening,  my  wife  " — his  hesitation  was  very  slight — 
"  my  wife  looked  me  up  after  you  left,  and  we  gossiped. 
I  clean  forgot  the  post."  He  smiled  in  an  explanatory 
way  as  he  moved  to  the  desk  and  picked  up  the  letters. 

With  Greening's  eyes  upon  him,  there  was  no  time  for 
scruples.  With  very  creditable  coolness  he  began  open- 
ing the  envelopes  one  by  one.  The  letters  were  unim- 
portant, and  he  passed  them,  one  after  another,  to  the 
secretary,  experiencing  a  slight  thrill  of  authority  as  each 
left  his  hand.  Again  the  fact  that  power  is  visible  in 
little  things  came  to  his  mind. 

"  Give  me  my  engagement-book,  Greening,"  he  said, 
when  the  letters  had  been  disposed  of. 

The  book  that  Greening  handed  him  was  neat  in  shape, 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  71 

and  bound,  like  Chilcote's  cigarette-case,  in  lizard-skin. 
As  Loder  took  it,  the  gold  monogram  "  J.  C."  winked  at 
him  in  the  light  of  the  bright  morning.  The  incident 
moved  his  sense  of  humor.  He  and  the  book  were  co- 
operators  in  the  fraud,  it  seemed.  He  felt  an  inclination 
to  wink  back.  Nevertheless  he  opened  the  book  with 
correct  gravity  and  skimmed  the  pages. 

The  page  devoted  to  the  day  was  almost  full.  On 
every  other  line  were  jottings  in  Chilcote's  irregular 
hand,  and  twice  amongst  the  entries  appeared  a  promi- 
nent cross  in  blue  penciling.  Loder's  interest  quickened 
as  his  eye  caught  the  mark.  It  had  been  agreed  that  only 
engagements  essential  to  Chilcote's  public  life  need  be 
carried  through  during  his  absence — and  these,  to  save 
confusion,  were  to  be  crossed  in  blue  pencil.  The  rest 
— for  the  most  part  social  claims — were  to  be  left  to  cir- 
cumstance and  Loder's  inclination;  Chilcote's  erratic 
memory  always  accounting  for  the  breaking  of  trivial 
promises. 

But  Loder  in  his  new  energy  was  anxious  for  obliga- 
tions ;  the  desire  for  fresh  tests  grew  with  indulgence. 
He  scanned  the  two  lines  with  eagerness.  The  first  was 
an  interview  with  Cressham,  one  of  Chilcote's  supporters 
in  Wark,  the  other  an  engagement  to  lunch  with  Fraide. 
At  the  idea  of  the  former  his  interest  quickened,  but  at 
the  thought  of  the  latter  it  quailed  momentarily.  Had 
the  entry  been  a  royal  command  it  would  have  affected 
him  infinitely  less.  For  a  space  his  assurance  faltered ; 
then,  by  coincidence,  the  recollection  of  Eve  and  Eve's 
words  of  last  night  came  back  to  him,  and  his  mind  was 
filled  with  a  new  sensation. 

Because  of  Chilcote,  he  was  despised  by  Chilcote's 
wife !  There  was  no  denying  that  in  all  the  pleasant  ex- 
citement of  the  adventure  that  knowledge  rankled.  It 
came  back  to  him  linked  with  the  remembrance  of  the 
slight  reluctant  touch  of  her  fingers,  the  faintly  evasive 
dislike  underlying  her  glance.  It  was  a  trivial  thing — 
but  it  touched  his  pride  as  a  man.  That  was  how  he  put 
it  to  himself.  It  wasn't  that  he  valued  this  woman's 
opinion — any  woman's  opinion — it  was  merely  that  it 


72  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

touched  his  pride.  He  turned  again  to  the  window  and 
gazed  out,  the  engagement-book  still  between  his  hands. 
What  if  he  compelled  her  respect?  What  if  by  his  own 
personality,  cloaked  under  Chilcote's  identity,  he  forced 
her  to  admit  his  capability?  It  was  a  matter  of  pride — 
scarcely  even  pride ;  self-respect  was  a  better  word. 

Satisfied  by  his  own  reasoning,  he  turned  back  into 
the  room. 

"  See  to  those  letters,  Greening,"  he  said.  "  And  for 
the  rest  of  the  morning's  work,  you  might  go  on  with 
your  Khorasan  notes.  I  believe  we'll  want  every  inch 
of  knowledge  we  can  get  in  that  quarter  before  we're 
much  older.  I'll  see  you  again  later."  With  a  reassur- 
ing nod  he  crossed  the  room  and  passed  through  the 
door. 

He  lunched  with  Fraide  at  his  club,  and  afterward 
walked  with  him  to  Westminster.  The  walk  and  lunch 
were  both  memorable.  In  that  hour  he  learned  many 
things  that  had  been  sealed  to  him  before.  He  tasted 
his  first  draught  of  real  elation,  his  first  drop  of  real  dis- 
comfiture. He  saw  for  the  first  time  how  a  great  man 
may  condescend — how  unostentatiously,  how  fully,  how 
delightfully.  He  felt  what  tact  and  kindness  perfectly 
combined  may  accomplish,  and  he  burned  inwardly  with 
a  sense  of  duplicity  that  crushed  and  elated  him  alter- 
nately. He  was  John  Loder — friendless,  penniless,  witR 
no  present  and  no  future — yet  he  walked  down  White- 
hall in  the  full  light  of  day  with  one  of  the  greatest  states- 
men England  has  known. 

Some  strangers  were  being  shown  over  the  Terrace 
when  he  and  Fraide  reached  the  House,  and  noticing  the 
open  door,  the  old  man  paused. 

"  I  never  refuse  fresh  air,"  he  said.  "  Shall  we  take 
another  breath  of  it  before  settling  down  ?  "  He  took 
Loder's  arm  and  drew  him  forward.  As  they  passed 
through  the  doorway  the  pressure  of  his  fingers  tight- 
ened. 

"  I  shall  reckon  to-day  amongst  my  pleasantest  mem- 
ories, Chilcote,"  he  said  gravely.  "  I  can't  explain  the 
feeling,  but  I  seem  to  have  touched  Eve's  husband — the 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  73 

real  you — more  closely  this  morning  than  I  ever  did  be- 
fore. It  has  been  a  genuine  happiness."  He  looked  up 
with  the  eyes  that,  through  all  his  years  of  action  and 
responsibility,  had  remained  so  bright. 

But  Loder  paled  suddenly  and  his  glance  turned  to  the 
river — wide,  mysterious,  secret.  Unconsciously  Fraide 
had  stripped  his  illusions.  It  was  not  John  Loder  who 
walked  here ;  it  was  Chilcote, — Chilcote  with  his  posi- 
tion, his  constituency,  his  wife.  He  half  extricated  his 
arm,  but  Fraide  held  it. 

"  No,"  he  said.  "  Don't  draw  away  from  me.  You 
have  always  been  too  ready  to  do  that.  It  is  not  often 
that  I  have  a  pleasant  truth  to  tell.  I  won't  be  deprived 
of  the  enjoyment."  He  smiled. 

"Can  truth  ever  be  pleasant,  sir?"  Involuntarily 
Loder  echoed  Chilcote. 

Fraide  looked  up.  He  was  half  a  head  shorter  than 
his  companion,  though  his  dignity  concealed  the  fact 
"  Chilcote,"  he  said  seriously,  "  give  up  cynicism.  It  is 
the  trade-mark  of  failure,  and  I  do  not  like  it  in  my — 
friends." 

Loder  said  nothing.  The  quiet  insight  of  the  reproof, 
its  mitigating  kindness,  touched  him  sharply.  In  that 
moment  he  saw  the  rails  down  which  he  had  sent  his  lit- 
tle car  of  existence  spinning  and  the  sight  daunted  him. 
The  track  was  steeper,  the  gauge  narrower  than  he  had 
guessed;  there  were  curves  and  sidings  upon  which  he 
had  not  reckoned.  He  turned  his  head  and  met  Fraide's 
glance. 

"  Don't  count  too  much  on  me,  sir,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  I  might  disappoint  you  again."  His  voice  broke  off  on 
the  last  word,  for  the  sound  of  voices  and  laughter  came 
to  them  across  the  Terrace,  as  a  group  of  two  women 
and  three  men  passed  through  the  open  door.  At  a 
glance  he  realized  that  the  slighter  of  the  two  women 
was  Eve. 

Seeing  them,  she  disengaged  herself  from  her  party 
and  came  quickly  forward.  Loder  saw  her  cheeks  flush 
and  her  eyes  brighten  pleasantly  as  they  rested  on  his 


74  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

companion;  but  he  noticed  also  that,  after  her  first 
cursory  glance,  she  avoided  his  own  direction. 

As  she  came  toward  them,  Fraide  drew  away  his  hand 
in  readiness  to  greet  her. 

"  Here  comes  my  godchild !  "  he  said.  "  I  often  wish, 
Chilcote,  that  I  could  do  away  with  the  prefix."  He 
added  the  last  words  in  an  undertone ;  then,  as  she 
reached  them,  he  responded  warmly  to  her  smile. 
"  What !  "  he  said.  "  Turning  the  Terrace  into  the  Gar- 
den of  Eden  in  January !  We  cannot  allow  this." 

Eve  laughed.  "  Blame  Lady  Sarah !  "  she  said.  "  We 
met  at  lunch  and  she  carried  me  off.  Needless  to  say,  I 
hadn't  to  ask  where  ?  " 

They  both  laughed,  and  Loder  joined  a  little  uncer- 
tainly. He  had  yet  to  learn  that  the  devotion  of  Fraide 
and  his  wife  was  a  long-standing  jest  in  their  particular 
set. 

At  the  sound  of  his  tardy  laugh  Eve  turned  to  him.  "  I 
hope  I  didn't  rob  you  of  all  sleep  last  night,"  she  said. 
"  I  caught  him  in  his  den,"  she  explained  to  Fraide,  "  and 
invaded  it  most  courageously.  I  believe  we  talked  till 
two." 

Again  Loder  noticed  how  quickly  she  looked  from 
him  to  Fraide.  The  knowledge  roused  his  self-asser- 
tion. 

"  I  had  an  excellent  night,"  he  said.  "  Do  I  look  as  if 
I  hadn't  slept?" 

Somewhat  slowly  and  reluctantly  Eve  looked  back. 
"  No,"  she  said  truthfully,  and  with  a  faint  surprise  that 
to  Loder  seemed  the  first  genuine  emotion  she  had  shown 
regarding  him.  "  No.  I  don't  think  I  ever  saw  you 
look  so  well."  She  was  quite  unconscious  and  very 
charming  as  she  made  the  admission.  It  struck  him  that 
her  coloring  of  hair  and  eyes  gained  by  daylight — were 
brightened  and  vivified  by  their  setting  of  sombre  river 
and  sombre  stone. 

Fraide  smiled  at  her  affectionately,  then  looked  at 
Loder.  "  Chilcote  has  got  a  new  lease  of  nerves,  Eve," 
he  said  quietly.  "  And  I — believe — I  have  got  a  new 
henchman.  But  I  see  my  wife  beckoning  to  me.  I  must 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  75 

have  a  word  with  her  before  she  flits  away.  May  I  be 
excused  ?  "  He  made  a  courteous  gesture  of  apology. 

Eve  looked  after  him  as  he  moved  away.  "  I  some- 
times wonder  what  I  should  do,  if  anything  were  to 
happen  to  the  Fraides,"  she  said  a  little  wistfully.  But 
almost  at  once  she  laughed,  as  if  regretting  her  im- 
pulsiveness. 

"  I  heard  what  he  said,"  she  went  on  in  a  different 
voice.  "  Am  I  really  to  congratulate  you  ?  " 

The  change  of  tone  stung  Loder  unaccountably. 
"  Will  you  always  disbelieve  in  me  ?  "  he  said. 

Without  answering  she  walked  slowly  across  the 
deserted  Terrace,  and  pausing  by  the  parapet,  laid  her 
hand  on  the  stone-work.  Still  in  silence  she  looked  out 
across  the  river — the  slight  breeze  that  blew  across  it 
stirring  her  hair. 

Loder  had  followed  closely.  Again  her  aloofness 
seemed  a  challenge.  "  Will  you  always  disbelieve  in 
me  ?  "  he  repeated. 

At  last  she  looked  up  at  him,  slowly  and  with  some 
surprise. 

"  Have  you  given  me  cause  to  believe  ? "  she  asked 
in  a  quiet  voice. 

To  this  truth  he  found  no  answer,  though  the  sub- 
dued incredulity  nettled  him  still  more. 

Prompted  to  a  further  effort,  he  spoke  again.  "  Pa- 
tience is  necessary  with  every  person  and  every  circum- 
stance," he  said.  "  We've  all  got  to  wait  and  see." 

She  did  not  lower  her  gaze  as  he  spoke,  and  there 
seemed  to  him  something  almost  disconcerting  in  the 
clear,  candid  blue  of  her  eyes.  With  a  sudden  dread 
of  her  next  words,  he  moved  forward  and  laid  his  hand 
beside  hers  on  the  parapet. 

"  Patience  is  needed  for  every  one,"  he  said.  "  Some- 
times a  man  is  like  a  bit  of  wreckage;  he  drifts — till 
some  force  stronger  than  himself  gets  in  his  way  and 
stops  him."  He  looked  again  at  her  face.  He  scarcely 
knew  what  he  was  saying;  he  only  felt  that  he  was  a 
man  in  an  egregiously  false  position,  trying  stupidly 
to  justify  himself. 


76  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  Don't  you  believe  that  flotsam  can  sometimes  be 
washed  ashore  ?  "  he  asked. 

High  above  them  Big  Ben  chimed  sonorously. 

Eve  raised  her  head.  It  almost  seemed  to  Loder  that 
he  could  see  her  answer  trembling  on  her  lips;  then  the 
voice  of  Lady  Sarah  Fraide  came  cheerfully  from  be- 
hind them. 

"  Eve !  "  she  called.  "  Eve !  We  must  fly.  Can  you 
believe  it,  it's  absolutely  three  o'clock." 


CHAPTER  X. 

In  the  days  that  followed  Fraide's  marked  adoption 
of  him,  Loder  behaved  with  a  discretion  that  spoke 
well  for  his  qualities.  Many  a  man  placed  in  the  same 
responsible  and  yet  strangely  irresponsible  position 
might  have  been  excused  if,  for  the  time  being,  he  gave 
himself  a  loose  rein.  But  Loder  kept  free  of  the  temp- 
tation. 

Like  all  other  experiments,  his  showed  unlooked-for 
features  when  put  to  a  working  test.  Its  expected  dif- 
ficulties smoothed  themselves  away,  while  others, 
scarcely  anticipated,  came  into  prominence.  Most  not- 
ably, the  physical  likeness  between  himself  and  Chil- 
cote — the  universal  factor  and  bed-rock  of  the  scheme — 
which  had  been  counted  upon  to  offer  most  danger, 
worked  without  a  hitch.  He  stood  literally  amazed  be- 
fore the  sweeping  credulity  that  met  him  upon  every 
hand.  Men  who  had  known  Chilcote  from  his  youth — 
servants  who  had  been  in  his  employment  for  years — 
all  joined  issue  in  the  unquestioning  acceptance.  At 
times  the  ease  of  the  deception  bewildered  him:  there 
were  moments  when  he  realized  that  should  circum- 
stances force  him  to  a  declaration  of  the  truth  he  would 
not  be  believed.  Human  nature  prefers  its  own  eye- 
sight to  the  testimony  of  any  man. 

But  in  face  of  this  astonishing  success  he  steered  a 
steady  course.  In  the  first  exhilaration  of  Fraide's 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  77 

favor,  in  the  first  egotistical  wish  to  break  Eve's  scepti- 
cism, he  might  possibly  have  plunged  into  the  vortex  of 
action — let  it  be  in  what  direction  it  might;  but  fortu- 
nately for  himself,  for  Chilcote  and  for  their  scheme,  he 
was  liable  to  strenuous  second  thoughts — those  wise  and 
necessary  curbs  that  go  further  to  the  steadying  of  the 
universe  than  the  universe  guesses.  Sitting  in  the  quiet 
of  the  House  on  the  same  day  that  he  had  spoken  with 
Eve  on  the  Terrace,  he  had  weighed  possibilities  slowly 
and  cautiously.  Impressed  to  the  full  by  the  atmosphere 
of  the  place — that  in  his  eyes  could  never  lack  character, 
however  dull  its  momentary  business,  however  prosy  the 
voice  that  filled  it — he  had  sifted  impulse  from  expedi- 
ence as  only  a  man  who  has  lived  within  himself  can 
sift  and  distinguish.  And  at  the  close  of  tfiat  first  day 
his  programme  had  been  formed.  There  must  be  no 
rush,  no  headlong  plunge,  he  had  decided ;  things  must 
work  round.  It  was  his  first  expedition  into  the  new 
country,  and  it  lay  with  Fate  to  say  whether  it  would 
be  his  last. 

He  had  been  leaning  back  in  his  seat,  his  eyes  on  the 
Ministers  opposite,  his  arms  folded  in  imitation  of  Chil- 
cote, when  this  final  speculation  had  come  to  him;  and 
as  it  came  his  lips  had  tightened  for  a  moment,  his  face 
had  become  hard  and  cold.  It  is  an  unpleasant  thing 
when  a  man  first  unconsciously  speculates  on  the  weak- 
ness of  another,  and  the  look  that  expresses  the  idea 
is  not  good  to  see.  Loder  had  stirred  uneasily,  then  his 
lips  had  closed  again.  He  was  tenacious  by  nature,  and 
by  nature  intolerant  of  weakness.  At  the  first  idea  of 
reckoning  upon  Chilcote's  lapses  his  mind  had  shrunk 
back  in  disgust;  but  as  the  thought  came  again  the  dis- 
gust had  lessened. 

In  a  week — two  weeks,  perhaps — Chilcote  would  re- 
claim his  place.  Then  would  begin  the  routine  of  the 
affair.  Chilcote,  fresh  from  indulgence  and  freedom, 
would  find  his  obligations  a  thousand  times  more  irk- 
some than  before;  he  would  struggle  for  a  time, 
then 


78  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

A  shadowy  smile  had  touched  Loder's  lips  as  the  idea 
formed  itself. 

Then  would  come  the  inevitable  recall ;  then  in  earn- 
est he  might  venture  to  put  his  hand  to  the  plough. 
He  never  indulged  in  day-dreams,  but  something  in  the 
nature  of  a  vision  had  flashed  over  his  mind  in  that 
instant.  He  had  seen  himself  standing  in  that  same 
building,  seen  the  rows  of  faces,  first  bored,  then  hesi- 
tatingly transformed  under  his  personal  domination,  un- 
der the  one  great  power  he  knew  himself  to  possess — 
the  power  of  eloquence.  The  strength  of  the  sugges- 
tion had  been  almost  painful.  Men  who  have  attained 
self-repression  are  occasionally  open  to  a  perilous  on- 
rush of  feeling.  Believing  that  they  know  themselves, 
they  walk  boldly  forward  towards  the  highroad  and  the 
pitfall  alike. 

These  had  been  his  disconnected  ideas  and  specula- 
tions on  the  first  day  of  his  new  life.  At  four  o'clock 
on  the  ninth  day  he  was  pacing  with  quiet  confidence 
up  and  down  Chilcote's  study,  his  mind  pleasantly  busy 
and  his  cigar  comfortably  alight,  when  he  paused  in  his 
walk  and  frowned — interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  a 
servant. 

The  man  came  softly  into  the  room,  drew  a  small 
table  towards  the  fire,  and  proceeded  to  lay  an  extremely 
fine  and  unserviceable-looking  cloth. 

Loder  watched  him  in  silence.  He  had  grown  to  find 
silence  a  very  useful  commodity.  To  wait  and  let  things 
develop  was  the  attitude  he  oftenest  assumed.  But  on 
this  occasion  he  was  perplexed.  He  had  not  rung  for 
tea,  and  in  any  case  a  cup  on  a  salver  would  have  satis- 
fied his  wants.  He  looked  critically  at  the  fragile  cloth. 

Presently  the  servant  departed  and  solemnly  re-entered, 
carrying  a  silver  tray,  with  cups,  a  teapot,  and  numer- 
ous dishes  of  cake.  Having  adjusted  these  to  his  satis- 
faction, he  turned  to  Loder. 

"  Mrs.  Chilcote  will  be  with  you  in  five  minutes,  sir," 
he  said. 

He  waited  for  some  response,  but  Loder  gave  none. 
Again  he  found  the  advantages  of  silence,  but  this  time 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  79 

it  was  silence  of  a  compulsory  kind.  He  had  nothing  to 
say. 

The  man,  finding  him  irresponsive,  retired.  And  left 
to  himself,  Loder  stared  at  the  array  of  feminine  trifles ; 
then,  turning  abruptly,  moved  to  the  center  of  the  room. 

Since  the  day  they  had  talked  on  the  Terrace,  he  had 
only  seen  Eve  thrice  and  always  in  the  presence  of  others. 
Since  the  night  of  his  first  coming,  she  had  not  invaded 
his  domain,  and  he  wondered  what  this  new  departure 
might  mean. 

His  thought  of  her  had  been  less  vivid  in  the  last 
few  days;  for,  though  still  using  steady  discretion,  he 
had  been  drawn  gradually  nearer  the  fascinating  whirl- 
pool of  new  interests  and  new  work.  Shut  his  eyes  to  it 
as  he  might,  there  was  no  denying  that  this  moment  so 
personally  vital  to  him  was  politically  vital  to  the  whole 
country;  and  that,  by  a  curious  coincidence,  Chilcote's 
position  wellnigh  forced  him  to  take  an  active  interest 
in  the  situation.  Again  and  again  the  suggestion  had 
arisen  that,  should  the  smouldering  fire  in  Persia  break 
into  a  flame,  Chilcote's  commercial  interests  would  facili- 
tate, would  practically  compel  his  standing  in  in  the  cam- 
paign against  the  Government. 

The  little  incident  of  the  tea-table,  recalling  the  social 
side  of  his  obligations,  roused  the  realization  of  greater 
things.  As  he  stood  meditatively  in  the  middle  of  the 
room,  he  saw  suddenly  how  absorbed  he  had  become 
in  these  greater  things.  How  in  the  swing  of  con- 
genial interests  he  had  been  borne  forward — his  capac- 
ities expanding,  his  intelligence  asserting  itself.  He  had 
so  undeniably  found  his  sphere  that  the  idea  of  usurpa- 
tion had  receded  gently  as  by  natural  laws,  and  insensi- 
bly his  own  personality  had  begun  to  color  the  day's 
work. 

As  this  knowledge  came,  he  wondered  quickly  if  it 
held  a  solution  to  the  present  little  comedy;  if  Eve  had 
seen  what  others,  he  knew,  had  observed — that  Chilcote 
was  showing  a  grasp  of  things  such  as  he  had  not  exhib- 
ited for  years.  As  a  sound  of  skirts  came  softly  down 


80  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

the  corridor,  he  squared  his  shoulders  with  his  habitual 
abrupt  gesture  and  threw  his  cigar  into  the  fire. 

Eve  entered  the  room  much  as  she  had  done  on  her 
former  visit — with  this  difference,  that  in  passing  Loder, 
she  quietly  held  out  her  hand. 

He  took  it  as  quietly.  "  Why  am  I  so  honored  ?  "  he 
said. 

She  laughed  a  little  and  looked  across  at  the  fire. 
"  How  like  a  man !  You  always  want  to  begin  with 
reasons.  Let's  have  tea  first  and  explanations  after." 
She  moved  forward  towards  the  table,  and  Loder  fol- 
lowed. As  he  did  so,  it  struck  him  that  her  dress  seemed 
in  peculiar  harmony  with  the  day  and  the  room,  though 
beyond  that  he  could  not  follow  its  details.  As  she 
paused  beside  the  table,  he  drew  forward  a  chair  with 
a  faint  touch  of  awkwardness. 

She  thanked  him  and  sat  down. 

He  watched  her  in  silence  as  she  poured  out  the  tea, 
and  the  thought  crossed  his  mind  that  it  was  incredibly 
long  since  he  had  seen  a  woman  preside  over  a  meal. 
The  deftness  of  her  fingers  filled  him  with  an  unfamil- 
iar, half-inquisitive  wonder.  And  so  interesting  was  the 
sensation  that,  when  she  held  his  cup  towards  him,  he 
didn't  immediately  see  it. 

"  Don't  you  want  any  ?  "    She  smiled  a  little. 

He  started,  embarrassed  by  his  own  tardiness.  "  I'm 
afraid  I'm  dull,"  he  said.  "I've  been  so " 

" — So  keen  a  worker  in  the  last  week,"  she  suggested. 

For  a  moment  he  felt  relieved.  Then,  as  silence  fell 
again,  his  sense  of  awkwardness  returned.  He  sipped 
his  tea  and  ate  a  biscuit.  He  found  himself  wishing, 
for  almost  the  first  time  in  his  life,  for  some  of  the  small 
society  talk  that  came  so  pleasantly  to  other  men.  He 
felt  that  the  position  was  ridiculous.  He  glanced  at 
Eve's  averted  head,  and  laid  his  empty  cup  upon  the 
table. 

Almost  at  once  she  turned  and  their  eyes  met. 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  do  you  guess  at  all  why  I  wanted 
to  have  tea  with  you  ? " 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  81 

He  looked  down  at  her.  "  No,"  he  said  honestly  and 
without  embellishment. 

The  curtness  of  the  answer  might  have  displeased 
another  woman.  Eve  seemed  to  take  no  offense. 

"  I  had  a  talk  with  the  Fraides  to-day,"  she  said — 
"  a  long  talk.  Mr.  Fraide  said  great  things  of  you — 
things  I  wouldn't  have  believed  from  anybody  but  Mr. 
Fraide."  She  altered  her  position  and  looked  from  Lod- 
er's  face  back  into  the  fire. 

He  took  a  step  forward.  "  What  things  ?  "  he  said. 
He  was  almost  ashamed  at  the  sudden,  inordinate  satis- 
faction that  welled  up  at  her  words. 

"  Oh,  I  mustn't  tell  you."  She  laughed  a  little.  "  But 
you  have  surprised  him."  She  paused,  sipped  her  tea, 
then  looked  up  with  a  change  of  expression. 

"  John,"  she  said  more  seriously,  "  there  is  one  point 
that  sticks  a  little.  Will  this  great  change  last  ?  "  Her 
voice  was  direct  and  even — wonderfully  direct  for  a 
woman,  Locler  thought.  It  came  to  him  with  a  certain 
force  that  beneath  her  remarkable  charm  there  might 
possibly  lie  a  remarkable  character.  It  was  not  a  pos- 
sibility that  had  occurred  to  him  before,  and  it  caused 
him  to  look  at  her  a  second  time.  In  the  new  light  he 
saw  her  beauty  differently,  and  it  interested  him  dif- 
ferently. Heretofore  he  had  been  inclined  to  class  women 
under  three  heads — idols,  amusements  or  encumbrances ; 
now  it  crossed  his  mind  that  a  woman  might  possibly 
fill  another  place — the  place  of  a  companion. 

"  You  are  very  skeptical,"  he  said,  still  looking  down 
at  her. 

She  did  not  return  his  glance.  "  I  think  I  have  been 
made  skeptical,"  she  said,  studying  the  pattern  on  her 
cup. 

As  she  spoke  the  image  of  Chilcote  shot  through 
Loder's  mind. 

Chilcote — irritable,  vicious,  unstable ;  and  a  quick  com- 
passion for  this  woman,  so  inevitably  shackled  to  him, 
followed  it. 

Eve,  unconscious  of  what  was  passing  in  his  mind, 
spoke  again. 


82  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  When  we  were  married,"  she  said  gently,  "  I  had 
such  a  great  interest  in  things,  such  a  great  belief  in 
life.  I  had  lived  in  politics,  and  I  was  marrying  one  of 
the  coming  men — everybody  said  you  were  one  of  the 
coming  men.  I  scarcely  felt  there  was  anything  left  to 
ask  for.  You  didn't  make  very  ardent  love,"  she  smiled ; 
"  but  I  think  I  had  forgotten  about  love.  I  wanted  noth- 
ing so  much  as  to  be  like  Lady  Sarah — married  to  a 
great  man."  She  paused.  "  For  a  while  things  went 
right;  then  slowly  things  went  wrong.  You  got  your 
— your  nerves." 

Loder  changed  his  position  with  something  of  abrupt- 
ness. 

She  misconstrued  the  action. 

"  Please  don't  think  I  want  to  be  disagreeable,"  she 
said  hastily.  "  I  don't.  I'm  only  trying  to  make  you 
understand  why — why  I  lost  heart." 

"  I  think  I  know,"  Loder's  voice  broke  in  involun- 
tarily. "  Things  got  worse — then  still  worse.  You 
found  interference  useless;  at  last  you  ceased  to  have  a 
husband." 

"  Until  a  week  ago "  She  glanced  up  quickly. 

Absorbed  in  her  own  feelings,  she  had  seen  nothing 
extraordinary  in  his  words. 

But  at  hers,  Loder  changed  color. 

"  It's  the  most  incredible  thing  in  the  world,"  she  said. 
"  It's  quite  incredible,  and  yet  I  can't  deny  it.  Against 
all  my  reason — all  my  experience — all  my  inclination,  I 
seem  to  feel  in  the  last  week  something  of  what  I  felt  at 
first."  She  stopped  with  an  embarrassed  laugh.  "  It 
seems  that,  as  if  by  magic,  life  had  been  picked  up  where 
I  dropped  it  six  years  ago."  Again  she  stopped  and 
laughed. 

Loder  was  keenly  uncomfortable,  but  he  could  think 
of  nothing  to  say. 

"  It  seemed  to  begin  that  night  I  dined  with  the 
Fraides,"  she  went  on.  "  Mr.  Fraide  talked  so  wisely  and 
so  kindly  about  many  things.  He  recalled  all  we  had 
hoped  for  in  you,  and — and  he  blamed  me  a  little."  She 
paused  and  laid  her  cup  aside.  "  He  said  that  when  peo- 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  83 

pie  have  made  what  they  call  their  last  effort,  they 
should  always  make  just  one  effort  more.  He  prom- 
ised that  if  I  could  once  persuade  you  to  take  an  inter- 
est in  your  work,  he  would  do  the  rest.  He  said  all 
that,  and  a  thousand  other  kinder  things — and  I  sat  and 
listened.  But  all  the  time  I  thought  of  nothing  but  the 
uselessness  of  his.  words.  Before  I  left  I  promised  him 
to  do  my  best,  but  my  thought  was  still  the  same.  It 
was  stronger  than  ever  when  I  forced  myself  to  come 

up  here "  She  paused  again,  and  glanced  at  Loder's 

averted  head. 

"  But  I  came,  and  then — as  if  by  conquering  myself 
I  had  compelled  a  reward,  you  seemed — you  somehow 
seemed  different.  It  sounds  ridiculous,  I  know."  Her 
voice  was  half  amused,  half  deprecating.  "  It  wasn't  a 
difference  in  your  face,  though  I  knew  directly  that  you 
were  free  from — nerves."  Again  she  hesitated  over  the 
word.  "  It  was  a  difference  in  yourself — in  the  things 
you  said,  more  than  in  the  way  you  said  them."  Once 
more  she  paused  and  laughed  a  little. 

Loder's  discomfort  grew. 

"  But  it  didn't  affect  me  then."  She  spoke  more 
slowly.  "  I  wouldn't  admit  it  then.  And  next  day,  when 
we  talked  on  the  Terrace,  I  still  refused  to  admit  it — 
though  I  felt  it  more  strongly  than  before.  But  I  have 
watched  you  since  that  day,  and  I  know  there  is  a  change. 
Mr.  Fraide  feels  the  same — and  he  is  never  mistaken.  I 
know  it's  only  nine  or  ten  days;  but  I've  hardly  seen 
you  in  the  same  mood  for  nine  or  ten  hours  in  the  last 
three  years "  She  stopped,  and  the  silence  was  ex- 
pressive. It  seemed  to  plead  for  confirmation  of  her 
instinct. 

Still  Loder  could  find  no  response. 

After  waiting  for  a  moment,  she  leant  forward  in  her 
chair  and  looked  up  at  him. 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  is  it  going  to  last  ?  That's  what 
I  came  to  ask.  I  don't  want  to  believe  till  I'm  sure;  I 
don't  want  to  risk  a  new  disappointment."  Loder  felt 
the  earnestness  of  her  gaze,  though  he  avoided  meeting 
it. 


84  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  I  couldn't  have  said  this  to  you  a  week  ago,  but  to- 
day I  can.  I  don't  pretend  to  explain — the  feeling  is 
inexplicable.  I  only  know  that  I  can  say  it  now,  and  that 
I  couldn't  a  week  ago.  Will  you  understand — and  an- 
swer ?  " 

Still  Loder  remained  mute.  His  position  was  horribly 
incongruous.  What  could  he  say?  What  dared  he 
say? 

Confused  by  his  silence,  Eve  rose. 

"  If  it's  only  a  phase  don't  try  to  hide  it,"  she  said. 
"  But  if  it's  going  to  last — if  by  any  possibility  it's  going 
to  last "  She  hesitated  and  again  looked  up. 

She  was  quite  close  to  him.  He  would  have  been  less 
than  man  had  he  been  unconscious  of  the  subtle  con- 
tact of  her  glance,  the  nearness  of  her  presence — and 
no  one  had  ever  hinted  that  manhood  was  lacking  in 
him.  It  was  a  moment  of  temptation.  His  own  energy, 
his  own  intentions  seemed  so  near;  Chilcote — and  Chil- 
cote's  claims — so  distant  and  unreal.  After  all,  his  life, 
his  ambitions,  his  determinations  were  his  own.  He  lifted 
his  eyes  and  looked  at  Eve. 

"  You  want  me  to  tell  you  that  I  will  go  on  ?  "  he 
said. 

Her  eye  brightened ;  she  took  a  step  forward.  "  Yes," 
she  said,  "  I  want  it  more  than  anything  in  the  world." 

There  was  a  wait.  The  declaration  that  would  satisfy 
her  came  to  Loder's  lips,  but  he  delayed  it.  The  delay 
was  fateful.  While  he  stood  silent  the  door  opened  and 
the  servant  who  had  brought  in  tea  reappeared. 

He  crossed  the  room  and  handed  Loder  a  telegram. 
"  Any  answer,  sir  ?  "  he  said. 

Eve  moved  back  to  her  chair.  There  was  a  flush  on 
her  cheeks  and  her  eyes  were  still  alertly  bright. 

Loder  tore  the  telegram  open,  read  it,  then  threw  it 
into  the  fire. 

"  No  answer,"  he  said  laconically. 

At  the  brusqueness  of  his  voice,  Eve  looked  up.  "  Dis- 
agreeable news  ?  "  she  said  as  the  servant  departed. 

Loder  didn't  look  at  her.  He  was  watching  the  tele- 
gram withering  in  the  center  of  the  fire. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  85 

"  No,"  he  said  at  last  in  a  strained  voice.    "  No.  Only 
news  that  I — that  I  had  forgotten  to  expect." 


CHAPTER    XI. 

There  was  a  silence — an  uneasy  break — after  Loder 
spoke.  The  episode  of  the  telegram  was  to  all  appear- 
ances ordinary  enough,  calling  forth  Eve's  question  and 
his  own  reply  as  a  natural  sequence;  yet  in  the  pause 
that  followed  it  each  was  conscious  of  a  jar,  each  was 
aware  that  in  some  subtle  way  the  thread  of  sympathy 
had  been  dropped — though  to  one  the  cause  was  in- 
explicable and  to  the  other  only  too  plain. 

Loder  watched  the  ghost  of  his  message  grow  whiter 
and  thinner,  then  dissolve  into  airy  fragments  and  flut- 
ter up  the  chimney.  As  the  last  morsel  wavered  out  of 
sight,  he  turned  and  looked  at  his  companion. 

"  You  almost  made  me  commit  myself,"  he  said.  In 
the  desire  to  hide  his  feelings,  his  tone  was  short. 

Eve  returned  his  glance  with  a  quiet  regard,  but  he 
scarcely  saw  it.  He  had  a  stupefied  sense  of  disaster,  a 
feeling  of  bitter  self-commiseration  that  for  the  mo- 
ment outweighed  all  other  considerations.  Almost  at  the 
moment  of  justification  the  good  of  life  had  crumbled  in 
his  fingers,  the  soil  had  given  way  beneath  his  feet;  and 
with  an  absence  of  logic,  a  lack  of  justice  unusual  in 
him,  he  let  resentment  against  Chilcote  sweep  suddenly 
over  his  mind. 

Eve,  still  watching  him,  saw  the  darkening  of  his 
expression,  and  with  a  quiet  movement  rose  from  her 
chair. 

"  Lady  Sarah  has  a  theatre-party  to-night,  and  I  am 
dining  with  her,"  she  said.  "  It  is  an  early  dinner,  so  I 
must  think  about  dressing.  I'm  sorry  if  you  think  I 
tried  to  draw  you  into  anything.  I  must  have  explained 
myself  badly."  She  laughed  a  little  to  cover  the  slight 
discomfiture  that  her  tone  betrayed,  and  as  she  laughed 
she  moved  across  the  room  towards  the  door. 


86  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Loder,  engrossed  in  the  check  to  his  own  schemes, 
incensed  at  the  suddenness  of  Chilcote's  recall,  and  still 
more  incensed  at  his  own  folly  in  not  having  anticipated 
it,  was  oblivious  for  the  moment  of  both  her  movement 
and  her  words.  Then  quite  abruptly  they  obtruded 
themselves  upon  him,  breaking  through  his  egotism  with 
something  of  the  sharpness  of  pain  following  a  blow. 
Turning  quickly  from  the  fireplace,  he  faced  the  shad- 
owy room  across  which  she  had  passed;  but  simultane- 
ously with  his  turning  he  heard  the  door  close. 

The  knowledge  that  she  was  gone  struck  him  with  a 
sense  of  loss.  "  Wait ! "  he  called,  suddenly  moving 
forward.  But  almost  at  once  he  paused,  chilled  by  the 
solitude  of  the  room. 

The  blow  had  fallen,  the  inevitable  come  to  pass,  and 
nothing  remained  but  to  take  the  fact  with  as  good  a 
grace  as  possible.  Chilcote's  telegram  had  summoned 
him  to  Clifford's  Inn  at  seven  o'clock,  and  it  was  now 
well  on  towards  six.  He  pulled  out  his  watch — Chil- 
cote's watch,  he  realized  with  a  touch  of  grim  humor, 
as  he  stooped  to  examine  the  dial  by  the  light  of  the 
fire.  Then,  as  if  the  humor  had  verged  to  another  feel- 
ing, he  stood  straight  again  and  felt  for  the  electric  but- 
ton in  the  wall.  His  fingers  touched  it,  and  immediately 
the  room  was  lighted. 

The  abrupt  alteration  from  shadow  to  light  came  almost 
as  a  shock.  The  feminine  arrangement  of  the  tea-table 
seemed  incongruous  beside  the  sober  books  and  the  desk 
laden  with  papers — incongruous  as  his  own  presence  in 
the  place.  The  thought  was  unpleasant,  and  he  turned 
aside  as  if  to  avoid  it ;  but  at  the  movement  his  eyes  fell 
on  Chilcote's  cigarette  box  with  its  gleaming  mono- 
gram, and  the  whimsical  suggestion  of  his  first  morning 
rose  again.  The  idea  that  the  inanimate  objects  in  the 
room  knew  him  for  what  he  was — recognized  the  inter- 
loper where  human  eyes  saw  the  rightful  possessor — 
returned  to  his  mind.  Through  all  his  disgust  and 
chagrin  a  smile  forced  itself  to  his  lips,  and  crossing  the 
room  for  the  second  time  he  passed  into  Chilcote's  bed- 
room. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  87 

There  the  massive  furniture  and  somber  atmosphere 
fitted  better  with  his  mood  than  the  energy  and  action 
which  the  study  always  suggested.  Walking  directly  to 
the  great  bed,  he  sat  upon  its  side,  and  for  several  min- 
utes stared  straight  in  front  of  him  apparently  seeing 
nothing:  then  at  last  the  apathy  passed  from  him,  as  his 
previous  anger  against  Chilcote  had  passed.  He  stood 
up  slowly,  drawing  his  long  limbs  together,  and  re- 
crossed  the  room,  passing  along  the  corridor  and  through 
the  door  communicating  with  the  rest  of  the  house.  Five 
minutes  later  he  was  in  the  open  air  and  walking  steadily 
eastward,  his  hat  drawn  forward  and  his  overcoat  but- 
toned up. 

As  he  traversed  the  streets  he  allowed  himself  no 
time  for  thought.  Once,  as  he  waited  in  Trafalgar 
Square  to  find  a  passage  between  the  vehicles,  the  remem- 
brance of  Chilcote's  voice  coming  out  of  the  fog  on  their 
first  meeting  made  itself  prominent,  but  he  rejected  it 
quickly — guarding  himself  from  even  an  involuntary 
glance  at  the  place  of  their  encounter.  The  Strand, 
with  its  unceasing  life,  came  to  him  as  something  almost 
unfamiliar.  Since  his  identification  with  the  new  life, 
no  business  had  drawn  him  east  of  Charing  Cross,  and 
his  first  sight  of  the  narrower  stream  of  traffic  struck  him 
as  garish  and  unpleasant.  As  the  impression  came  he 
accelerated  his  steps,  moved  by  the  wish  to  make  regret 
and  retrospection  alike  impossible  by  a  contact  with  act- 
ual forces. 

Still  walking  hastily,  he  entered  Clifford's  Inn,  but 
there  almost  unconsciously  his  feet  halted.  There  was 
something  in  the  quiet  immutability  of  the  place  that 
sobered  energy,  both  mental  and  physical.  A  sense  of 
changelessness — the  changelessness  of  inanimate  things, 
that  rises  in  such  solemn  contrast  to  the  variableness  of 
mere  human  nature  which  a  new  environment,  a  new 
outlook,  sometimes  even  a  new  presence  has  power  to 
upheave  and  remould.  He  paused;  then  with  slower 
and  steadier  steps  crossed  the  little  court  and  mounted 
the  familiar  stairs  of  his  own  house. 

As  he  turned  the  handle  of  his  own  door,  some  one 


88  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

stirred  in  the  sitting-room.  Still  under  the  influence  of 
the  stones  and  trees  that  he  had  just  left,  he  moved 
directly  towards  the  sound,  and  without  waiting  for  per- 
mission entered  the  room.  After  the  darkness  of  the 
passage  it  seemed  well  alight,  for,  beside  the  lamp  with 
its  green  shade,  a  large  fire  burned  in  the  grate  and 
helped  to  dispel  the  shadows. 

As  he  entered,  Chilcote  rose  and  came  forward,  his 
figure  thrown  into  strong  relief  by  the  double  light. 
He  was  dressed  in  a  shabby  suit,  his  face  looked  pale 
and  set,  with  a  slightly  nervous  tension;  but  except  for 
the  look  and  a  certain  added  restlessness  of  glance,  there 
was  no  visible  change.  Reaching  Loder,  he  held  out  his 
hand. 

"Well?"  he  said  quickly. 

The  other  looked  at  him  questioningly. 

"  Well?  "  he  repeated.    "  Well,  how  has  it  gone?  " 

"  The  scheme  ?  Oh,  excellently."  Loder's  manner 
was  abrupt.  Turning  from  the  restless  curiosity  in  'Chil- 
cote's  eyes,  he  moved  a  little  way  across  the  room  and 
began  to  draw  off  his  coat.  Then  struck  by  the  inci- 
vility of  the  action,  he  looked  back  again.  "  The  scheme 
has  gone  extraordinarily,"  he  said.  "  I  could  almost  say 
absurdly.  There  are  some  things,  Chilcote,  that  fairly 
bowl  a  man  over — and  this  is  one." 

A  great  relief  tinged  Chilcote's  face. 

"  Good !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Good !  Tell  me  all  about 
it." 

But  Loder  was  reticent.  The  moment  was  not 
propitious.  It  was  as  if  a  hungry  man  had  dreamed  a 
great  banquet  and  had  awakened  to  his  starvation.  He 
was  chary  of  imparting  his  visions. 

"  There's  nothing  to  tell,"  he  said  shortly.  "  All  that 
you'll  want  to  know  is  here  in  black  and  white.  I  don't 
think  you'll  find  I  have  slipped  anything;  it's  a  clear 
business  record."  From  an  inner  pocket  he  drew  a  bulky 
note-book,  and  recrossing  the  room,  laid  it  open  on  the 
table.  It  was  a  correct  record  of  every  action  that  had 
been  accomplished  in  Chilcote's  name. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  89 

"  I  don't  think  you'll  find  any  loose  ends,"  he  said 
as  he  turned  the  pages.  "  I  had  you  and  your  position 
in  my  mind  all  through."  He  paused  and  glanced  up 
from  the  book.  "  You  have  a  position  that  absolutely 
insists  upon  attention,"  he  added  in  a  different  voice. 

At  the  new  tone  Chilcote  looked  up  as  well.  "  No 
moral  lectures ! "  he  said  with  a  nervous  laugh.  "  I 
was  anxious  to  know  if  you  had  pulled  it  off,  and  you 
have  reassured  me.  That's  enough.  I  was  in  a  funk 
this  afternoon  to  know  how  things  were  going — one  of 
those  sudden,  unreasonable  funks.  But  now  that  I  see 

you "  He  cut  himself  short,  and  laughed  once  more. 

"  Now  that  I  see  you,  I'm  hanged  if  I  don't  want  to— 
to  prolong  your  engagement." 

Loder  glanced  at  him,  then  glanced  away.  He  felt 
a  quick  shame  at  the  eagerness  that  rose  at  the  words — 
a  surprised  contempt  at  his  own  readiness  to  anticipate 
the  other's  weakness.  But  almost  as  speedily  as  he  had 
turned  away  he  looked  back  again. 

"  Tush,  man !  "  he  said  with  his  old  intolerant  manner. 
"  You're  dreaming.  You've  had  your  holiday  and 
school's  begun  again.  You  must  remember  you  are 
dining  with  the  Charringtons  to-night.  Young  Charring- 
tons'  coming  of  age — quite  a  big  business.  Come  along ! 
I  want  my  clothes."  He  laughed,  and  moving  closer  to 
Chilcote,  slapped  him  on  the  shoulder. 

Chilcote  started;  then,  suddenly  becoming  imbued 
with  the  other's  manner,  he  echoed  the  laugh. 

"  By  Jove !  "  he  said,  "  you're  right !  You're  quite 
right!  A  man  must  keep  his  feet  in  their' own  groove.'* 
Raising  his  hand,  he  began  to  fumble  with  his  tie. 

But  Loder  retained  his  position.  "  You'll  find  the 
cheque-book  in  its  usual  drawer,"  he  said.  I've  made 
one  entry  of  a  hundred  pounds — pay  for  the  first  week. 
The  rest  can  stand  over  until "  He  paused  abruptly. 

Chilcote  shifted  his  position.  "  Don't  talk  about  that. 
It  upsets  me  to  anticipate.  I  can  make  out  a  cheque  to- 
morrow payable  to  John  Loder." 

"  No.    It  can  wait.    The  name  of  Loder  is  better  out  of 


90  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

the  book;  we  can't  be  too  careful."  He  spoke  with  un- 
usual impetuosity.  Already  a  slight,  unreasonable 
jealousy  was  coloring  his  thoughts.  Already  he  grudged 
the  idea  of  Chilcote  with  his  unstable  glance  and  restless 
fingers  opening  the  drawers  and  sorting  the  papers  that 
for  one  stupendous  fortnight  had  been  his  without  ques- 
tion. Turning  aside,  he  changed  the  subject  brusquely. 

"Come  into  the  bedroom,"  he  said.  "It's  half-past  seven 
if  it's  a  minute,  and  the  Charringtons'  show  is  at 
nine."  Without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  walked  across 
the  room  and  held  the  door  open. 

There  was  no  silence  while  they  exchanged  clothes. 
Loder  talked  continuously,  sometimes  in  short  curt  sen- 
tences, sometimes  with  ironic  touches  -of  humor;  he 
talked  until  Chilcote,  strangely  affected  by  contact  with 
another  personality  after  his  weeks  of  solitude,  fell  under 
his  influence — his  excitement  rising,  his  imagination 
stirring  at  the  novelty  of  change.  At  last,  garbed  once 
more  in  the  clothes  of  his  own  world,  he  passed  from  the 
bedroom  back  into  the  sitting-room  and  there  halted, 
waiting  for  his  companion. 

Almost  directly  Loder  followed.  He  came  into  the 
room  quietly,  and  moving  at  once  to  the  table,  picked  up 
the  note-book  that  still  lay  there. 

"  I'm  not  going  to  preach,"  he  began,  "  so  you  needn't 
shut  me  up.  But  I'll  say  just  one  thing — a  thing  that 
will  get  said.  Try  and  keep  your  hold !  Remember  your 
responsibilities — and  keep  your  hold !  "  He  spoke  ener- 
getically— looking  earnestly  into  Chilcote's  eyes.  He  did 
not  realize  it,  but  he  was  pleading  for  his  own  career. 

Chilcote  paled  a  little,  as  he  always  did  in  face  of  a 
reality.  Then  he  extended  his  hand. 

"  My  dear  fellow,"  he  said  with  a  touch  of  hauteur, 
"  a  man  can  generally  be  trusted  to  look  after  his  own 
life." 

Extricating  his  hand  immediately  Loder  had  gripped 
it,  he  turned  towards  the  door,  and  without  a  word  of 
farewell  passed  into  the  little  hall,  leaving  him  alone  in 
the  sitting-room. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  91 


On  the  night  of  Chilcote's  return  to  his  own,  Loder 
tasted  the  lees  of  life  poignantly  for  the  first  time.  Be- 
fore their  curious  compact  had  been  entered  upon  he 
had  been,  if  not  content,  at  least  apathetic ;  but  with  action 
the  apathy  had  been  dispersed,  never  again  to  regain  its 
old  position. 

He  realized  with  bitter  certainty  that  his  was  no  home- 
coming. On  entering  Chilcote's  house  he  had  experienced 
none  of  the  unfamiliarity,  none  of  the  unsettled  awkward- 
ness, that  assailed  him  now.  There,  •  he  had  almost 
seemed  the  exile  returning  after  many  wanderings ;  here, 
in  the  atmosphere  made  common  by  years,  he  felt  an 
alien.  It  was  illustrative  of  the  man's  character  that 
sentimentalities  foundAjo  place  in  his  nature.  Sentiments 
were  not  lacking,  though  they  lay  out  of  sight,  but  sen- 
timentalities he  altogether  denied. 

Left  alone  in  the  sitting-room  after  Chilcote's  depar- 
ture, his  first  sensation  was  one  of  physical  discomfort 
and  unfamiliarity.  His  own  clothes  with  their  worn 
looseness  brought  no  sense  of  friendliness  such  as  some 
men  find  in  an  old  garment.  Lounging — and  the  clothes 
that  suggest  lounging — had  no  appeal  for  him.  In  his 
eyes  the  garb  that  implies  responsibility  was  symbolic, 
and  even  inspiring. 

And  as  with  clothes,  so  with  his  actual  surroundings. 
Each  detail  of  his  room  was  familiar,  but  not  one  had 
ever  become  intimately  close.  He  had  used  the  place  for 
years,  but  he  had  used  it  as  he  might  a  hotel ;  and  what- 
ever of  his  household  gods  had  come  there  with  him  re- 
mained like  himself  on  sufferance.  His  entrance  into 
Chilcote's  surroundings  had  been  altogether  different. 
Unknown  to  himself  he  had  been  in  the  position  of  a 
modeler  who,  having  moulded  roughly  in  clay,  is  brought 
into  the  studio  of  a  finished  sculptor.  To  his  outward 
vision  everything  had  been  new,  but  his  inner  sight  had 
leaped  to  instant  understanding.  Amid  all  the  strange- 
ness he  had  recognized  the  one  essential — the  workshop, 
the  atmosphere,  the  home. 


92  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

On  this  first  night  of  return  he  comprehended  some- 
thing of  the  reverse  position ;  and,  comprehending,  faced 
the  problem  and  fought  with  it. 

He  had  made  his  bargain  and  must  pay  his  share. 
Weighing  this,  he  looked  about  the  room  with  a  quiet 
gaze.  Then  at  last,  as  if  finding  the  object  sought  for, 
his  eyes  came  round  to  the  mantelpiece  and  rested  on 
the  pipe-rack.  The  pipes  stood  precisely  as  he  had  left 
them.  He  looked  at  them  for  a  long  time ;  then  an  ironic 
expression  that  was  almost  a  smile  touched  his  lips,  and 
crossing  the  room,  he  took  the  oldest  and  blackest  from 
its  place  and  slowly  filled  it  with  tobacco. 

With  the  first  indrawn  breath  of  smoke  his  attitude 
unbent.  Without  conscious  determination  he  had  chosen 
the  one  factor  capable  of  easing  his  mood.  A  cigarette 
is  for  the  trivial  moments  of  life ;  a  cigar  for  its  fulfill- 
ments, its  pleasant  comfortable  retrospections ;  but  in 
real  distress — in  the  solving  of  a  question,  the  fighting 
of  a  difficulty — a  pipe  is  man's  eternal  solace. 

So  he  passed  the  first  night  of  his  return  to  the 
actualities  of  life.  Next  day  his  mind  had  somewhat 
settled  and  outward  aid  was  not  so  essential ;  but  though 
facts  faced  him  more  solidly  they  were  nevertheless  very 
drab  in  shade.  The  necessity  for  work — that  blessed  anti- 
dote to  ennui — no  longer  forced  him  to  endeavor.  He 
was  no  longer  penniless;  but  the  money  he  possessed 
brought  with  it  no  desire  to  spend.  When  a  man  has  lived 
from  hand  to  mouth  for  years,  and  suddenly  finds  himself 
with  a  hundred  pounds  in  his  pocket,  the  result  is  some- 
times curious.  He  finds  with  a  vague  sense  of  surprise 
that  he  has  forgotten  how  to  spend.  That  extravagance, 
like  other  artificial  passions,  requires  cultivation. 

This  Loder  realized  more  fully  as  one  day  succeeded 
another,  and  with  it  was  born  a  new  bitterness.  The  man 
who  has  friends  and  no  money  may  find  life  difficult,  but 
the  man  who  has  money  and  no  friend  to  rejoice  in  his 
fortune  or  benefit  by  his  generosity  is  aloof  indeed.  With 
the  leaven  of  incredulity  that  works  in  all  strong  natures, 
he  distrusted  the  professional  beggar — consequently  the 
charity  that  bestows  easily  and  promiscuously  was  denied 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  $3 

him;  and  of  other  channels  of  generosity  he  was  too 
self-contained  to  have  learned  the  secret. 

When  depression  falls  upon  a  man  of  usually  even 
temperament  it  descends  with  a  double  weight.  The 
mercurial  nature  has  a  hundred  counterbalancing  devices 
to  rid  itself  of  gloom — a  sudden  lifting  of  spirit,  a  memory 
of  other  moods  lived  through,  other  blacknesses  dispersed 
by  time ;  but  the  man  of  level  nature  has  none  of  these. 
Depression  when  it  comes  is  indeed  depression ;  no  phase 
of  mind  to  be  superseded  by  another  phase,  but  a  slacken- 
ing of  all  the  cords  of  life. 

It  was  through  such  a  depression  that  he  labored  dur- 
ing three  weeks,  while  no  summons  and  no  hint  of  re- 
membrance came  from  Chilcote.  His  position  was 
peculiarly  difficult.  He  found  no  interest  in  the  present ; 
and  toward  the  future  he  dared  not  trust  himself  to  look. 
He  had  slipped  the  old  moorings  that  familiarity  had  ren- 
dered endurable ;  but  having  slipped  them,  he  had  found 
no  substitute.  Such  was  his  case  on  the  last  night  of 
the  three  weeks,  and  such  his  frame  of  mind  as,  wrapped 
in  his  heavy  overcoat,  he  crossed  Fleet  Street  from 
Clifford's  Inn  to  Middle  Temple  Lane. 

It  was  scarcely  seven  o'clock,  but  already  the  dusk 
was  falling ;  the  greater  press  of  vehicles  had  ceased,  and 
the  light  of  the  street  lamps  gleamed  back  from  the  spaces 
of  dry  and  polished  roadway,  worn  smooth  as  a  mirror 
by  wheels  and  hoofs.  Something  of  the  solitude  of 
night  that  sits  so  ill  on  the  strenuous  city  street  was 
making  itself  felt,  though  the  throngs  of  people  on  .the 
pathway  still  streamed  east  and  westward,  and  the 
taverns  plied  a  busy  trade. 

Having  crossed  the  roadway,  he  paused  for  a  moment 
to  survey  the  scene.  But  humanity  in  the  abstract  made 
small  appeal  to  him,  and  his  glance  wandered  from  the 
passers-by  to  the  buildings,  massed  like  clouds  against  the 
dark  sky.  As  his  gaze  moved  slowly  from  one  to  the 
other,  a  clock  near  at  hand  struck  seven,  and  a  second 
later  the  chorus  was  taken  up  by  a  dozen  clamorous 
tongues.  Usually  he  scarcely  heard,  and  never  heeded, 
these  innumerable  chimes;  but  this  evening  their  effect 


94  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

was  strange.  Coming  out  of  the  darkness,  they  seemed 
to  possess  a  personal  note,  a  human  declaration.  The 
impression  was  fantastic,  but  it  was  strong ;  with  a  species 
of  revolt  against  life  and  his  own  personality,  he  turned 
slowly,  and  moved  forward  in  the  direction  of  Ludgate 
Hill. 

For  a  space  he  continued  his  course,  but  reaching 
Bouverie  Street  he  turned  sharply  to  the  right,  made  his 
way  down  the  slight  incline  towards  Carmelite  and  Tallis 
Streets,  and  reached  the  Embankment.  There  he  paused 
and  drew  a  long  breath.  The  sense  of  space  and  darkness 
soothed  him.  Pulling  his  cap  well  over  his  eyes,  he 
crossed  to  the  river  and  walked  on  in  the  direction  of 
Westminster  Bridge. 

As  he  walked,  the  great  mass  of  water  by  his  side 
looked  dense  and  smooth  as  oil,  with  its  sweeping  width 
and  network  of  reflected  light.  On  its  farther  bank  rose 
the  tall  buildings,  the  chimneys,  the  flaring  lights  that 
suggest  another  and  an  alien  London;  close  at  hand 
stretched  the  solid  stone  parapet,  giving  assurance  of 
protection. 

All  these  things  he  saw  with  his  mental  eyes,  but  with 
his  mental  eyes  only,  for  his  physical  gaze  was  fixed 
ahead  where  the  Houses  of  Parliament  loomed  out  of  the 
dusk.  From  the  great  building  his  glance  never  wavered 
until  the  Embankment  was  traversed  and  Westminster 
Bridge  reached.  Then  he  paused,  resting  his  hands  on 
the  low  coping  of  the  bridge. 

In  the  tense  quietude  of  the  darkness  the  place  looked 
vast  and  inspiring.  The  shadowy  Terrace,  the  silent 
river,  the  rows  of  lighted  windows,  each  seemed  sig- 
nificant. Slowly  and  comprehensively  his  glance  passed 
from  one  to  the  other.  He  was  no  sentimentalist  and 
no  dreamer ;  his  act  was  simply  the  act  of  a  man  whose 
interests,  robbed  of  their  natural  outlet,  turn  instinctively 
towards  the  forms  and  symbols  of  the  work  that  is  denied 
them.  His  scrutiny  was  steady — even  cold.  He  was 
raised  to  no  exaltation  by  the  vastness  of  the  building, 
nor  was  he  chilled  by  any  dwarfing  of  himself.  He 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  95 

looked  at  it  long  and  thoughtfully,  then,  still  moving 
slowly,  he  turned  and  retraced  his  steps. 

His  mind  was  full  as  he  walked  back,  oblivious  of  the 
stone  parapet  of  the  Embankment,  of  the  bare  trees  and 
the  flaring  lights  of  the  advertisements  across  the  water. 
Turning  up  into  Carmelite  Street,  he  regained  Fleet 
Street  and  made  for  his  own  habitation  with  the  quiet 
accuracy  that  some  men  exhibit  in  moments  of  absorption. 

He  crossed  Clifford's  Inn  with  the  same  slow,  al- 
most listless  step ;  then,  as  his  own  doorway  came  into 
view,  he  stopped.  Some  one  was  standing  in  its  recess. 

For  a  moment  he  wondered  if  his  fancy  were  playing 
him  a  trick;  then  his  reason  sprang  to  certainty  with  so 
fierce  a  leap,  that  for  an  instant  his  mind  recoiled.  We 
more  often  stand  aghast  at  the  strength  of  our  own 
feelings  than  before  the  enormity  of  our  neighbors'  acts. 

"  Is  that  you,  Chilcote  ?  "  he  said  below  his  breath.  His 
voice  was  even,  though  his  mind  swam. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  the  other  wheeled  round. 
"  Hallo ! "  he  said  quickly.  "  I  thought  you  were  the 
ghost  of  some  old  inhabitant.  I  suppose  I  am  very  un- 
expected ?  " 

Loder  took  the  hand  that  he  extended  and  pressed  the 
fingers  unconsciously.  The  sight  of  this  man  was  like 
the  finding  of  an  oasis  at  the  point  where  the  desert  is 
sandiest,  deadliest,  most  unbearable. 

"  Yes ;  you  are — unexpected,"  he  answered. 

Chilcote  looked  at  him,  then  looked  out  into  the  court. 
"  I'm  done  up,"  he  said  sharply.  "  I'm  at  the  end  of  the 
tether."  He  laughed  as  he  said  it,  but  in  the  dim  light  of 
the  hall  Loder  thought  his  face  looked  ill  and  harassed, 
despite  the  flush  that  the  excitement  of  the  meeting  had 
brought  to  it.  Taking  his  arm,  he  drew  him  towards 
the  stairs. 

"  So  the  rope  has  run  out,  eh  ?  "  he  said,  in  imitation 
of  the  other's  tone.  But  under  the  quiet  of  his  manner, 
his  own  nerves  were  throbbing  with  the  peculiar  alertness 
of  anticipation, — a  sudden  sense  of  mastery  over  life, 
that  lifted  him  above  surroundings  and  above  persons; 
a  sense  of  stature,  mental  and  physical,  from  which  he 


96  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

surveyed  the  world.  He  felt  as  if  Fate,  in  the  moment  of 
darkness,  had  given  him  a  sign. 

As  they  had  crossed  the  hall,  Chilcote  had  drawn  away 
and  was  already  mounting  the  stairs.  As  Loder  followed 
it  came  sharply  to  his  mind  that  here,  in  the  slipshod 
freedom  of  a  door  that  was  always  open  and  a  stair  that 
was  innocent  of  covering,  lay  his  companion's  real  niche 
— unrecognized  in  outward  avowal  but  acknowledged 
by  the  inward  keener  sense  that  manifests  the  individual. 

In  silence  they  mounted  the  stairs,  but  on  the  first 
landing  Chilcote  paused  and  looked  back. 

"  I  did  very  well  at  first,"  he  said.  "  I  did  very  well — 
I  almost  followed  your  example  for  a  week  or  so.  I 
found  myself  on  a  sort  of  pinnacle — and  I  clung  on. 
But  in  the  last  ten  days  I've — I've  rather  lapsed." 

"  Why  ?  "  Loder  avoided  looking  at  his  face ;  he  kept 
his  eyes  fixed  determinately  on  the  spot  where  his  own 
hand  gripped  the  banister. 

"  Why  ?  "  Chilcote  repeated.  "  Oh,  the  prehistoric 
tale — weakness  stronger  than  strength.  I'm — I'm  sorry 
to  come  down  on  you  like  this ;  but  it's  the  social  side  that 
bowls  me  over.  It's  the  social  side  I  can't  stick." 

"  The  social  side  ?    I  thought " 

"  Don't  think.  I  never  think ;  it  entails  such  a  con- 
stant upsetting  of  principles  and  theories.  We  did 
arrange  for  business  only,  but  one  can't  set  up  barriers. 
Society  pushes  itself  everywhere  nowadays — into  business 
most  of  all.  I  don't  want  you  for  theatre-parties  or 
dinners.  But  a  big  reception  with  a  political  flavor  is 
different.  A  man  has  to  be  seen  at  these  things;  he 
needn't  say  anything  or  do  anything,  but  it's  bad  form 
if  he  fails  to  show  up." 

Loder  raised  his  head.     "Explain,"  he  said  abruptly. 

Chilcote  started  slightly  at  the  sudden  demand. 

"  I — I  suppose  I'm  rather  irrelevant,"  he  said  quickly. 
"  Fact  is,  there's  a  reception  at  the  Bramfell's  to-night. 
You  know  Blanche  Bramfell — Viscountess  Bramfell, 
sister  to  Lillian  Astrupp?  "  His  words  conveyed  nothing 
to  Loder,  but  he  did  not  consider  that.  All  explanations 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  97 

were  irksome  to  him,  and  he  invariably  chafed  to  be 
done  with  them. 

"  And  you've  got  to  put  in  an  appearance — for  party 
reasons  ?  " 

Chilcote  showed  relief.  "  Yes.  Old  Fraide  makes 
rather  a  point  of  it — so  does  Eve."  He  said  the  last 
words  carelessly,  then,  as  if  their  sound  recalled  some- 
thing, his  expression  changed.  A  trace  of  satirical  amuse- 
ment touched  his  lips,  and  he  laughed. 

"  By  the  way,  Loder,"  he  said,  "  my  wife  was  actually 
tolerant  of  me  for  nine  or  ten  days  after  my  return.  I 
thought  your  representation  of  me  was  to  be  quite  im- 
personal? I'm  not  jealous,"  he  laughed.  "I'm  not 
jealous,  I  assure  you;  but  the  burned  child  shouldn't 
grow  absent-minded." 

At  his  tone  and  his  laugh  Loder's  blood  stirred;  with 
a  sudden  unexpected  impulse  his  hand  tightened  on  the 
banister,  and  looking  up  he  caught  sight  of  the  face  above 
him — his  own  face  it  seemed,  alight  with  malicious  in- 
terest. At  the  sight  a  strange  sensation  seized  him;  his 
grip  on  the  banister  loosened,  and  pushing  past  Chilcote 
he  hurriedly  mounted  the  stairs. 

Outside  his  own  door  the  other  overtook  him. 

"  Loder !  "  he  said.  "  Loder !  I  meant  no  harm.  A 
man  must  have  a  laugh  sometimes." 

But  Loder  was  facing  the  door,  and  did  not  turn  round. 

A  sudden  fear  shook  Chilcote.  "  Loder ! "  he  ex- 
claimed again,  "you  wouldn't  desert  me?  I  can't  go 
tack  to-night.  I  can't  go  back." 

Still  Loder  remained  immovable. 

Alarmed  by  his  silence,  Chilcote  glanced  nervously 
back  at  the  steep  staircase. 

"Loder!  Loder,  you  won't  desert  me?"  He  caught 
hastily  at  his  arm. 

With  a  quick  repulsion  Loder  shook  him  off;  then  al- 
most as  quickly  he  turned  round. 

"  What  fools  we  all  are !  "  he  said  abruptly.  "  I  believe 
we  only  differ  in  degree.  Come  in,  and  let  us  change  our 
clothes." 


98  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

The  best  moments  of  a  man's  life  are  the  moments 
when,  strong  in  himself,  he  feels  that  the  world  lies  be- 
fore him.  Gratified  ambition  may  be  the  summer,  but 
anticipation  is  the  ardent  spring-time  of  his  career. 

As  Loder  drove  that  night  from  Fleet  Street  to  Gros- 
venor  Square  he  realized  this — though  scarcely  with  any 
degree  of  consciousness,  for  he  was  no  accomplished  self- 
analyst.  But  in  a  wave  of  feeling  too  vigorous  to  be 
denied,  he  recognized  his  regained  foothold — the  step 
that  lifted  him  at  once  from  the  pit  to  the  pinnacle. 

In  that  moment  of  realization  he  looked  neither  back- 
ward nor  forward.  The  present  was  all-sufficing.  Dif- 
ficulties might  loom  ahead,  but  difficulties  had  but  one 
object — the  testing  and  sharpening  of  a  man's  strength. 
In  the  first  deep  surge  of  egotistical  feeling  he  almost 
rejoiced  in  Chilcote's  weakness.  The  more  Chilcote 
tangled  the  threads  of  his  life  the  stronger  must  be  the 
fingers  that  unravelled  them.  He  was  possessed  by  a 
great  impatience;  the  joy  of  action  was  stirring  in  his 
blood. 

Leaving  the  cab,  he  walked  confidently  to  the  door  of 
Chilcote's  house  and  inserted  the  latch-key.  Even  in 
this  small  act  there  was  a  grain  of  individual  satisfaction. 
Then  very  quietly  he  opened  the  door  and  crossed  the 
hall. 

As  he  entered,  a  footman  was  arranging  the  fire  that 
burned  in  the  big  grate.  Seeing  the  man,  he  halted. 

"  Where  is  your  mistress  ?  "  he  asked,  in  unconscious 
repetition  of  his  first  question  in  the  same  house. 

The  man  looked  up.  "  She  has  just  finished  dinner, 
sir.  She  dined  alone — in  her  own  room.''  He  glanced 
at  Loder  in  the  .quick  uncertain  way  that  was  noticeable 
in  all  the  servants  of  the  household  when  they  addressed 
their  master.  Loder  saw  the  look  and  wondered  what 
depth  of  curiosity  it  betrayed, — how  much  of  insight  into 
the  domestic  life  that  he  must  always  be  content  to  skim. 
For  an  instant  the  old  resentment  against  Chilcote  tinged 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  W 

his  exaltation,  but  he  swept  it  angrily  aside.  Without 
further  remark  he  began  to  mount  the  stairs. 

Gaining  the  landing,  he  did  not  turn  as  usual  to  the 
door  that  shut  off  Chilcote's  rooms,  but  moved  onward 
down  the  corridor  towards  Eve's  private  sitting-room. 
He  moved  slowly  till  the  door  was  reached;  then  he 
paused  and  lifted  his  hand.  There  was  a  moment's  wait 
while  his  fingers  rested  on  the  handle ;  then  a  sensation 
he  could  not  explain — a  reticence,  a  reluctance  to  intrude 
upon  this  one  precinct — caused  his  fingers  to  relax. 
With  a  slightly  embarrassed  gesture  he  drew  back  slowly 
and  retraced  his  steps. 

Once  in  Chilcote's  bedroom,  he  walked  to  the  nearest 
bell  and  pressed  it.  Renwick  responded,  and  at  sight  of 
him  Loder's  feelings  warmed  with  the  same  sense  of  fit- 
ness and  familiarity  that  the  huge  bed  and  somber  fur- 
niture of  the  room  inspired. 

But  the  man  did  not  come  'forward  as  he  expected. 
He  remained  close  to  the  door,  with  a  hesitation  that  was 
unusual  in  a  trained  servant.  It  struck  Loder  that 
possibly  the  man's  stolidity  had  exasperated  Chilcote,  and 
that  possibly  Chilcote  had  been  at  no  pains  to  conceal  the 
exasperation.  The  idea  caused  him  to  smile  involuntarily. 

"  Come  into  the  room,  Renwick !  "  he  said.  "  It's  un- 
comfortable to  see  you  standing  there.  I  want  to  know 
if  Mrs.  Chilcote  has  sent  me  any  message  about  to- 
night?" 

Renwick  studied  him  furtively  as  he  came  forward. 
"  Yes,  sir,"  he  said.  "  Mrs.  Chilcote's  maid  said  that  the 
carriage  was  ordered  for  10.15,  and  she  hoped  that 
would  suit  you."  He  spoke  reluctantly,  as  if  expecting 
a  rebuke. 

At  the  opening  sentence  Loder  had  turned  aside,  but 
now  as  the  man  finished  he  wheeled  round  again  and 
looked  at  him  closely  with  his  keen,  observant  eyes. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  I  can't  have  you  speak  to  me 
like  that.  I  may  come  down  on  you  rather  sharply  when 
my — my  nerves  are  bad ;  but  when  I'm  myself  I  treat 
you — well,  I  treat  you  decently  at  any  rate.  You'll  have 
to  learn  to  discriminate.  Look  at  me  now !  "  A  thrill 


100  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

of  risk  and  of  rulership  passed  through  him  as  he  spoke. 

"  Look  at  me  now  !  Do  I  look  as  I  looked  this  morning 
— or  yesterday  ?  " 

The  man  eyed  him  half-stupidly  and  half-timidly. 

"Well?"     Loder  insisted. 

"Well,  sir,"  Renwick  responded  with  some  slowness, 
"  you  look  the  same — and  you  look  different.  A  healthier 
color,  perhaps,  sir;  and  the  eye  clearer."  He  grew  more 
confident  under  the  half-humorous,  half-insistent  gaze. 
"  Now  that  I  look  closer,  sir " 

Loder  laughed.  "That's  it!"  he  said.  "Now  that 
you  look  closer!  You'll  have  to  grow  observant;  obser- 
vation is  an  excellent  quality  in  a  servant.  When  you 
come  into  a  room  in  future,  look  at  me  first  of  all  and 
take  your  cue  from  that.  Remember  that  serving  a  man 
with  nerves  is  like  serving  two  masters.  Now  you  can 
go;  and  tell  Mrs.  Chilcote's  maid  that  I  shall  be  quite 
ready  at  a  quarter-past  ten." 

:<  Yes,  sir.    And  after  that?  " 

"  Nothing  further.  I  shan't  want  you  again  to-night." 
He  turned  as  he  spoke  and  crossed  to  the  great  fire  that 
was  always  kept  alight  in  Chilcote's  room.  Then  as  the 
man  moved  towards  the  door,  he  wheeled  back  again. 

"  Oh,  one  thing  more,  Renwick !  Bring  me  some  sand- 
wiches and  a  whisky." 

He  had  remembered  for  the  first  time  that  he  had  eaten 
nothing  since  early  afternoon. 


At  a  few  minutes  after  ten  Loder  left  Chilcote's  room, 
resolutely  descended  the  stairs,  and  took  up  his  position 
in  the  hall.  Resolution  is  a  strong  word  to  apply  to  such 
a  proceeding,  but  something  in  his  bearing,  in  the 
attitude  of  his  shoulders  and  head,  instinctively  suggested 
it. 

Five  or  six  minutes  passed,  but  he  waited  without  im- 
patience; then  at  last  the  sound  of  a  carriage  stopping 
before  the  house  caused  him  to  lift  his  head,  and  at  the 
same  instant  Eve  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 

She  stood  there  for  a  second,  looking  down  on  him, 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  101 

her  maid  a  pace  or  two  behind,  holding  her  cloak.  The 
picture  she  made  struck  upon  his  mind  with  something 
of  a  revelation. 

On  his  first  sight  of  her  she  had  appealed  to  him  as 
a  strange  blending  of  youth  and  self-possession — a  girl 
with  a  woman's  clearer  perception  of  life;  later,  he  had 
been  drawn  to  study  her  in  other  aspects;  but  now  for 
the  first  time  he  saw  her  as  a  power  in  her  own  world, 
a  woman  to  whom  no  man  could  deny  consideration. 
She  looked  taller  for  the  distance  between  them,  and  the 
distinction  of  her  carriage  added  to  the  effect.  Her 
black  gown  was  exquisitely  soft — as  soft  as  her  black 
hair;  above  her  forehead  was  a  cluster  of  splendid 
diamonds  shaped  like  a  coronet,  and  a  band  of  the  same 
stones  encircled  her  neck.  Loder  realized  in  a  glance 
that  only  the  most  distinguished  of  women  could  wear 
such  ornaments  and  not  have  her  beauty  eclipsed.  WitK 
a  touch  of  the  awkwardness  that  had  before  assailed  him 
in  her  presence,  he  came  slowly  forward  as  she  descended 
the  stairs. 

"  Can  I  help  you  with  your  cloak  ?  "  he  asked.  And 
as  he  asked  it,  something  like  surprise  at  his  own^timidity 
crossed  his  mind. 

For  a  second  Eve's  glance  rested  on  his  face.  Her 
expression  was  quite  impassive,  but  as  she  lowered  her 
lashes  a  faint  gleam  flickered  across  her  eyes;  neverthe- 
less her  answer  when  it  came  was  studiously  courteous. 

;'  Thank  you,"  she  said,  "  but  Marie  will  do  all  I  want." 

Loder  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  then  turned  aside. 
He  was  not  hurt  by  his  rebuff, — rather,  by  an  interesting 
sequence  of  impressions,  he  was  stirred  by  it.  The  pride 
that  had  refused  Chilcote's  help  and  the  self-control  that 
had  refused  it  graciously  moved  him  to  admiration.  He 
understood  and  appreciated  both  by  the  light  of  personal 
experience. 

"  The  carriage  is  at  the  door,  sir,"  Crapham's  voice 
broke  in. 

Eve  turned  to  her  maid.  "  That  will  do,  Marie,"  she 
said.  "  I  shall  want  a  cup  of  chocolate  when  I  get  back 
— probably  at  one  o'clock."  She  drew  her  cloak  about 


102  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

her  shoulders  and  moved  towards  the  door.  Then  she 
paused  and  looked  back. 

"Shall  we  start?"  she  asked  quietly. 

Loder,  still  watching  her,  came  forward  at  once. 
"  Certainly,"  he  said  with  unusual  gentleness. 

He  followed  her  as  she  crossed  the  footpath,  but  made 
no  further  offer  of  help ;  and  when  the  moment  came,  he 
quietly  took  his  place  beside  her  in  the  carriage.  His 
last  impression  as  the  horses  wheeled  round  was  of  the 
open  door — of  Crapham  in  his  somber  livery  and  the 
maid  in  her  black  dress,  silhouetted  against  the  dark 
background  of  the  hall;  then,  as  the  carriage  moved 
forward  smoothly  and  rapidly,  he  leant  back  in  his  seat 
and  closed  his  eyes. 

During  the  first  few  moments  of  the  drive  there  was 
silence.  To  Loder  there  was  a  strange  new  sensation  in 
this  companionship,  so  close  and  yet  so  distant.  He  was 
so  near  to  Eve  that  the  slight  fragrant  scent  from  her 
clothes  might  almost  have  belonged  to  his  own  garments. 
The  impression  was  confusing  and  yet  vaguely  delightful. 
It  was  years  since  he  had  been  so  close  to  a  woman  of 
his  own  class — his  own  world.  He  acknowledged  the 
thought  with  a  curious  sense  of  pleasure.  His  own 
world!  Involuntarily  he  turned  and  looked  at  her. 

She  was  sitting  very  straight — her  fine  profile  cut  clear 
against  the  carriage-window,  her  diamonds  quivering  in 
the  light  that  flashed  by  them  from  the  street.  For  a 
space  the  sense  of  unreality  that  had  pervaded  his  first 
entrance  into  Chilcote's  life  touched*  him  again,  then 
another  and  more  potent  feeling  rose  to  quell  it.  Almost 
involuntarily  his  lips  parted. 

"  May  I  say  something?  "  he  asked. 

Eve  remained  motionless.  She  did  not  turn  her  head 
as  most  women  would  have  done. 

"  Say  anything  you  like,"  she  said  gravely. 

"Anything?"  He  bent  a  little  nearer,  filled  again  by 
the  inordinate  wish  to  dominate. 

"  Of  course."  It  seemed  to  him  that  her  voice  sounded 
forced  and  a  little  tired.  For  a  moment  he  looked  through 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  103 

the  window  at  the  passing  lights,  then  slowly  his  gaze 
returned  to  her  face. 

"  You  look  very  beautiful  to-night,"  he  said.  His 
voice  was  low  and  his  manner  unemotional,  but  his  words 
had  the  effect  he  desired. 

She  turned  her  head,  and  her  eyes  met  his  in  a  glance 
of  curiosity  and  surprise. 

Slight  as  the  triumph  was,  it  thrilled  him.  The  small 
scene  with  Chilcote's  valet  came  to  him ;  his  own  person- 
ality moved  him  again  as  it  had  done  then  to  a  reckless 
determination  to  make  his  own  voice  heard.  Leaning 
forward,  he  laid  his  hand  lightly  on  her  arm. 

"  Eve,"  he  said  quickly,  "  Eve,  do  you  remember " 

Then  he  paused  and  withdrew  his  hand.  The  horses  had 
slackened  speed,  then  stopped,  as  the  carriage  fell  into 
line  outside  Lord  BramieH's  house. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

Loder  entered  Lord  Bramfell's  feeling  far  more  like 
an  actor  in  a  drama  than  an  ordinary  man  in  a  peculiar 
situation.  It  was  the  first  time  he  had  played  Chilcote 
to  a  purely  social  audience,  and  the  first  time  for  many 
years  that  he  had  rubbed  shoulders  with  a  well-dressed 
crowd,  ostensibly  brought  together  for  amusement.  As 
he  followed  Eve  along  the  corridor  that  led  to  the  recep- 
tion rooms,  he  questioned  the  reality  of  the  position  again 
and  again;  then  abruptly,  at  the  moment  when  the  sen- 
sation of  un  familiarity  was  strongest,  a  cheery  voice 
hailed  him,  and  turning,  he  saw  the  square  shoulders, 
light  eyes,  and  pointed  moustache  of  Lakeley,  the  owner 
and  editor  of  the  "  St.  George's  Gazette." 

At  sight  of  the  man  and  sound  of  his  greeting  his 
doubts  and  speculations  vanished.  The  essentials  of  life 
rose  again  to  the  position  they  had  occupied  three  weeks 
ago  in  the  short  but  strenuous  period  when  his  dormant 
activities  had  been  stirred  and  he  had  recognized  his 
true  self.  He  lifted  his  head  unconsciously — the  shade 


104  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

of  misgiving  that  had  crossed  his  confidence  passing  from 
him,  as  he  smiled  at  Lakeley  with  a  keen,  alert  pleasure 
that  altered  his  whole  face. 

Eve,  looking  back,  saw  the  expression.  It  attracted 
and  held  her,  like  a  sudden  glimpse  into  a  secret  room. 
In  all  the  years  of  her  marriage — in  the  days  of  her 
courtship  even — she  had  never  surprised  the  look  on 
Chilcote's  face.  The  impression  came  quickly,  and  with 
it  a  strange  warm  rush  of  interest  that  receded  slowly, 
leaving  an  odd  sense  of  loneliness.  But  at  the  moment 
that  the  feeling  came  and  passed  her  attention  was 
claimed  in  another  direction.  A  slight,  fair-haired  boy 
forced  his  way  towards  her  through  the  press  of  people 
that  filled  the  corridor. 

"  Mrs.  Chilcote !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Can  I  believe  my 
luck  in  finding  you  alone  ?  " 

Eve  laughed.  It  seemed  that  there  was  relief  in  her 
laugh. 

"  How  absurd  you  are,  Bobby !  "  she  said  kindly.  "  But 
you  are  wrong.  My  husband  is  here — I  am  waiting  for 
him." 

Blessington  looked  around.  "  Oh !  "  he  said,  "  in- 
deed ! "  Then  he  relapsed  into  silence.  He  was  the 
soul  of  good-nature,  but  those  who  knew  him  best, 
knew  that  Chilcote's  summary  change  of  secretaries  had 
rankled.  Eve,  conscious  of  the  little  jar,  made  haste  to 
smooth  it  away. 

"Tell  me  about  yourself!"  she  said.  "What  have 
you  been  doing  ?  " 

Blessington  looked  at  her;  then  smiled  again,  his 
buoyancy  restored. 

"  Doing !  "  he  said.  "  Oh,  calling  every  other  after- 
noon at  Grosvenor  Square— only  to  find  that  a  certain 
lady  is  never  at  home." 

At  his  tone  Eve  laughed.  The  boy  with  his  frank  and 
ingenuous  nature  had  beguiled  many  a  dull  hour  for  her 
in  past  days,  and  she  had  missed  him  not  a  little  when 
his  place  had  been  filled  by  Greening. 

"  But  I  mean  seriously,  Bobby.  Has  something  good 
turned  up  ?  " 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  105 

Blessington  made  a  wry  face.  "  Something  is  on  its 
way — that's  why  I  am  on  duty  to-night.  Old  Bramfell 
and  the  pater  are  working  it  between  them.  So  if  Lady 
Bramfell  or  Lady  Astrupp  happens  to  drop  a  fan  or  a 
handkerchief  this  evening,  I've  got  to  be  here  to  pick  it 
up.  See?" 

"  As  you  picked  up  my  fans  and  handkerchiefs  last 
year — and  the  year  before  ?  "  Eve  smiled. 

Blessington's  face  suddenly  looked  grave.  "  I  wish 
you  hadn't  said  that,"  he  said.  Then  he  paused  abruptly. 
Out  of  the  hum  of  talk  behind  them  a  man's  laugh 
sounded.  It  was  not  loud,  but  it  was  a  laugh  that  one 
seldom  hears  in  a  London  drawing-room — it  expressed 
interest,  amusement,  and  in  an  inexplicable  way  it  seemed 
also  to  express  strength. 

Eve  and  Blessington  both  turned  involuntarily. 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  Blessington. 

Eve  said  nothing. 

Loder  was  parting  with  Lakeley,  and  his  was  the  laugh 
that  had  attracted  both.  The  interest  excited  by  his  talk 
was  still  reflected  in  his  face  and  bearing  as  he  made 
his  way  towards  them. 

"  By  Jove !  "  said  Blessington  again.  "  I  never  real- 
ized that  Chilcote  was  so  tall." 

Again  Eve  said  nothing.  But  silently  and  with  a  more 
subtle  meaning  she  found  herself  echoing  the  words. 

Until  he  was  quite  close  to  her,  Loder  did  not  seem 
to  see  her.  Then  he  stopped  quietly. 

"  I  was  speaking  to  Lakeley,"  he  said.  "  He  wants  me 
to  dine  with  him  one  night  at  Cadogan  Gardens." 

But  Eve  was  silent,  waiting  for  him  to  address  Bless- 
ington. She  glanced  at  him  quickly,  but  though  their 
eyes  met  he  did  not  catch  the  meaning  that  lay  in  hers. 
It  was  a  difficult  moment.  She  had  known  him  incred- 
ibly— almost  unpardonably — absent-minded;  but  it  had 
invariably  been  when  he  was  suffering  from  "nerves," 
as  she  phrased  it  to  herself.  But  to-night  he  was  obvi- 
ously in  the  possession  of  unclouded  faculties.  She  col- 
ored slightly,  and  glanced  under  her  lashes  at  Blessing- 
ton.  Had  the  same  idea  struck  him,  she  wondered.  But 


106  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

he  was  studiously  studying  a  suit  of  Chinese  armor 
that  stood  close  by  in  a  niche  of  the  wall. 

"  Bobby  has  been  keeping  me  amused  while  you  talked 
to  Mr.  Lakeley,"  she  said  pointedly. 

Directly  addressed,  Loder  turned  and  looked  at  Bless- 
ington. 

"  How  d'you  do  ?  "  he  said  with  doubtful  cordiality. 
The  name  of  Bobby  conveyed  nothing  to  him. 

To  his  surprise  Eve  looked  annoyed,  and  Blessing- 
ton's  fresh-colored  face  deepened  in  tone.  With  a  slow, 
uncomfortable  sensation  he  was  aware  of  having  struck 
a  wrong  note. 

There  was  a  short,  unpleasant  pause.  Then,  more  by 
intuition  than  actual  sight,  Blessington  saw  Eve's  eyes 
turn  from  him  to  Loder,  and  with  quick  tact  he  saved 
the  situation. 

"How  d'you  do,  sir?"  he  responded  with  a  smile. 
"  I  congratulate  you  on  looking  so — so  uncommon  well. 
I  was  just  telling  Mrs.  Chilcote  that  I  hold  a  commis- 
sion for  Lady  Astrupp  to-night;  I'm  a  sort  of  scout  at 
present — reporting  on  the  outposts."  He  spoke  fast 
and  without  much  meaning,  but  his  boyish  voice  eased 
the  strain. 

Eve  thanked  him  with  a  smile.  "  Then  we  mustn't 
interfere  with  a  person  on  active  service,"  she  said.  "  Be- 
sides, we  have  our  own  duties  to  get  through."  She 
smiled  again,  and  touching  Loder's  arm,  indicated  the 
reception  rooms. 

When  they  entered  the  larger  of  the  two  rooms,  Lady 
Bramfell  was  still  receiving  her  guests.  She  was  a  tall 
and  angular  woman,  who,  except  for  a  certain  beauty  of 
hands  and  feet  and  a  certain  similarity  of  voice,  pos- 
sessed nothing  in  common  with  her  sister  Lillian.  She 
was  speaking  to  a  group  of  people  as  Eve  and  Loder 
approached,  and  the  first  sound  of  her  sweet  and  rather 
drawling  tones  touched  Loder  with  a  curious  momentary 
feeling — a  vague  suggestion  of  awakened  memories. 
Then  the  suggestion  vanished  as  she  turned  and  greeted 
Eve. 

"  How  sweet  of  you  to  come !  "  she  murmured ;  and  it 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  107 

seemed  to  Loder  that  a  more  spontaneous  smile  lighted 
up  her  face.  Then  she  extended  her  hand  to  him. 

"  And  you  too ! "  she  added.  "  Though  I  fear  we 
shall  bore  you  horribly." 

Watching  her  with  interest,  he  saw  her  change  of 
expression  as  her  eyes  turned  from  Eve  to  him,  and 
noticed  a  colder  tone  in  her  voice  as  she  addressed  him 
directly.  The  observation  moved  him  to  self-assertion. 

"  That's  a  poor  compliment  to  me,"  he  said.  "  To  be 
bored  is  surely  only  a  polite  way  of  being  inane." 

Lady  Bramfell  smiled.  "  What ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"  You  defending  your  social  reputation !  " 

Loder  laughed  a  little.  "  The  smaller  it  is,  the  more 
defending  it  needs." 

Another  stream  of  arrivals  swept  by  them  as  he  spoke. 
Eve  smiled  at  her  hostess  and  moved  across  the  room, 
and  he  perforce  followed.  As  he  gained  her  side  the 
little  court  about  Lady  Bramfell  was  left  well  in  the 
rear,  the  great  throng  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room 
was  not  yet  reached,  and  for  the  moment  they  were  prac- 
tically alone. 

There  was  a  certain  uneasiness  in  that  moment  of 
companionship.  It  seemed  to  him  that  Eve  wished  to 
speak,  but  hesitated.  Once  or  twice  she  opened  and 
closed  the  fan  that  she  was  carrying,  then  at  last,  as  if 
by  an  effort,  she  turned  and  looked  at  him. 

"  Why  were  you  so  cold  to  Bobby  Blessington  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  Doesn't  it  seem  discourteous  to  ignore  him  as 
you  did?" 

Her  manner  was  subdued.  It  was  not  the  annoyed 
manner  that  one  uses  to  a  man  when  he  has  behaved 
ill;  it  was  more  the  explanatory  tone  one  might  adopt 
towards  an  incorrigible  child.  Loder  felt  this.  But  the 
gist  of  a  remark  always  came  to  him  first — its  mode  of 
expression  later.  The  fact  that  it  was  Blessington  whom 
he  had  encountered — Blessington  to  whom  he  had  spoken 
with  vague  politeness — struck  him  with  a  sense  of  un- 
pleasantness. He  was  not  to  blame  in  the  matter,  never- 
theless he  blamed  himself.  He  was  annoyed  that  he 
should  have  made  the  slip  in  Eve's  presence. 


108  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

They  were  moving  forward,  nearing  the  press  of  peo- 
ple in  the  second  room,  when  Eve  spoke,  and  the  fact 
filled  him  with  an  unusual  sense  of  annoyance.  People 
smiled  and  bowed  to  her  from  every  side;  one  woman 
leant  forward  as  they  passed  and  whispered  something 
in  her  ear.  Again  the  sensation  of  futility  and  vexa- 
tion filled  him ;  again  he  realized  how  palpable  was  the 
place  she  held  in  the  world.  Then,  as  his  feelings 
reached  their  height,  and  speech  was  wellnigh  forced 
upon  him,  a  small  man  with  a  round  sallow  face,  catch- 
ing a  glimpse  of  them,  darted  from  a  circle  of  people 
gathered  in  one  of  the  windows.  With  an  unjust  touch 
of  irritation  he  recognized  their  host. 

Again  the  sense  of  Eve's  aloofness  stung  him  as  Lord 
Bramfell  approached.  In  another  moment  she  would  be 
lost  to  him  amongst  this  throng  of  strangers — claimed 
by  them  as  if  by  right. 

"  Eve,"  he  said  involuntarily  under  his  breath. 

She  half  paused  and  turned  towards  him.  "  Yes  ?  " 
she  said ;  and  he  wondered  if  it  was  his  imagination  that 
made  the  word  sound  slightly  eager. 

"  About  that  matter  of  Blessington,"  he  began.  Then 
he  stopped.  Bramfell  had  reached  them. 

The  little  man  came  up  smiling,  and  with  an  out- 
stretched hand. 

"  There's  no  penalty  for  separating  husband  and  wife, 
is  there,  Mrs.  Chilcote  ?  How  are  you,  Chilcote  ?  "  He 
turned  from  one  to  the  other  with  the  quick,  noiseless 
manner  that  characterized  him. 

Loder  moved  aside  to  hide  his  vexation,  but  Eve 
greeted  Bramfell  with  her  usual  self-possessed  smile. 

"  You  are  exempt  from  all  penalties  to-night,"  she 
said.  Then  she  turned  to  the  members  of  his  party,  who 
had  strolled  across  from  the  window  in  his  wake. 

As  she  moved,  he  looked  at  Loder. 

"  Well,  Chilcote,  have  you  dipped  into  the  future  yet?  " 
he  asked  with  a  laugh. 

Loder  echoed  the  laugh,  but  said  nothing.  In  his  un- 
certainty at  the  question  he  reverted  to  his  old  resource 
of  silence. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  109 

Bramfell  raised  his  eyebrows.  "  What ! "  he  said. 
"  Don't  tell  me  that  my  sister-in-law  hasn't  engaged  you 
as  a  victim."  Then  he  turned  again  to  Eve. 

"  You've  heard  of  our  new  departure,  Mrs.  Chilcote  ?  " 

She  looked  round  from  the  lively  group  by  which  she 
was  surrounded. 

"  Lillian's  crystal-gazing?  Why,  of  course,"  she  said. 
"  She  should  make  a  very  beautiful  seer.  We  are  all 
quite  curious." 

Bramfell  pursed  up  his  lips. 

"  She  has  a  very  beautiful  tent  at  the  end  of  the  con- 
servatory. It  took  five  men  as  many  days  to  rig  it  up. 
We  couldn't  hear  ourselves  talk  for  hammering.  My 
wife  said  it  made  her  feel  quite  philanthropic — it  re- 
minded her  so  much  of  a  charity  bazaar." 

Everybody  laughed;  and  at  the  same  moment  Bless- 
ington  came  quickly  across  the  room  and  joined  the 
group. 

"  Hallo !  "  he  said,  "  anybody  seen  Witcheston?  He's 
next  on  my  list  for  the  crystal  business." 

Again  the  whole  party  laughed,  and  Bramfell,  step- 
ping forward,  touched  Blessington's  arm  in  mock  seri- 
ousness. 

"  Witcheston  is  playing  bridge  like  a  sensible  man," 
he  said.  "  Leave  him  in  peace,  Bobby." 

Blessington  made  a  comical  grimace. 

"  But  I'm  working  this  on  commercial  principles,"  he 
objected.  "  I  keep  the  list — names  and  hours  complete, 
and  Lady  Astrupp  gazes  in  blissful  ignorance  as  to  who 
her  victims  are.  The  whole  thing 'is  great — simple  and 
statistical." 

"  For  goodness'  sake,  Bobby,  shut  up ! "  Bramfell's 
round  eyes  were  twinkling  with  amusement. 

"  But  my  system " 

"  Systems !  Ah,  we  all  had  them  when  we  were  as 
young  as  you  are." 

"  And  they  all  had  flaws,  Bobby,"  Eve  broke  in.  "  We 
were  always  finding  gaps  that  had  to  be  filled  up.  Never 
mind  about  Lord  Witcheston.  Get  a  substitute;  it  won't 
count — if  Lillian  doesn't  know," 


110  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Blessington  wavered.  His  eyes  wandered  round  the 
party,  and  rested  again  on  Bramfell. 

"  Not  me,  Bobby !  Remember  I've  breathed  crystals 
— practically  lived  on  them — for  the  last  week.  Now, 
there's  Chilcote "  Again  his  eyes  twinkled. 

All  eyes  were  turned  on  Loder,  though  one  or  two 
strayed  surreptitiously  to  Eve.  She,  sensitive  to  the 
position,  laughed  quickly. 

"  A  very  good  idea,"  she  said  hastily.  "  Who  wants 
to  see  the  future  if  not  a  politician.  Please  use  your 
authority,  Bobby.  And  when  you've  got  him  safely 
under  the  canvas  come  back  to  me.  It's  years  since  we've 
had  a  talk."  She  nodded  and  smiled,  then  instantly  turned 
to  Bramfell  with  some  trivial  remark. 

For  a  second  Loder  waited,  then  with  a  movement  of 
resignation  he  laid  his  hand  on  Blessington's  arm. 

"  Very  well !  "  he  said.  "  But  if  my  fate  is  black,  wit- 
ness it  was  my  wife  who  sent  me  to  it !  "  His  faint  pause 
on  the  word  wife,  the  mention  of  the  word  itself  in 
presence  of  these  people,  had  a  savor  of  recklessness. 
The  small  discomfiture  of  his  earlier  slip  vanished  before 
it;  he  experienced  a  strong  reaction  of  confidence  in 
his  luck.  With  a  cool  head,  a  steady  step  and  a  friendly 
pressure  of  the  fingers  on  Blessington's  arm,  he  allowed 
himself  to  be  drawn  across  the  reception  rooms,  through 
the  long  corridors  and  down  the  broad  flight  of  steps 
that  led  to  the  conservatory. 

The  conservatory  was  a  feature  of  the  Bramfell  town 
house;  and  to  Loder  it  came  as  something  wonderful 
and  unlocked  for,  with  its  clustering  green  branches,  its 
slight  unoppressive  scents,  its  temperately  pleasant  atmos- 
phere. He  felt  no  wish  to  speak  as,  still  guided  by 
Blessington,  he  passed  down  the  shadowy  paths  that  in 
the  half-light  had  the  warmth  and  mystery  of  a  southern 
garden.  Here  and  there  from  the  darkness  came  the 
whispering  of  a  voice  or  the  sound  of  a  laugh,  bringing 
with  it  the  necessary  touch  of  life.  Otherwise  the  place 
was  still. 

Absorbed  by  the  air  of  solitude,  contrasting  so  re- 
markably with  the  noise  and  crowded  glitter  left  behind 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  Ill 

in  the  reception  rooms,  he  had  moved  half-way  down  the 
long  green  aisle  before  the  business  in  hand  came  back 
to  him  with  a  sense  of  annoyance.  It  seemed  so  paltry 
to  mar  the  quiet  of  the  place  with  the  absurdity  of  a 
side-show.  He  turned  to  Blessington  with  a  touch  of 
abruptness. 

"  What  am  I  expected  to  do  ?  "  he  asked. 

Blessington  looked  up  surprised. 

"  Why,  I  thought,  sir,"  he  began.  Then  he  instantly 
altered  his  tone.  "  Oh,  just  enter  into  the  spirit  of  the 
thing.  Lady  Astrupp  won't  put  much  strain  on  your 
credulity,  but  she'll  make  a  big  call  on  your  solemnity." 
He  laughed. 

He  had  an  infectious  laugh,  and  Loder  responded  to 
it. 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  ?  "  he  persisted. 

"  Oh,  nothing,  sir.  Being  the  priestess,  she  naturally 
demands  acolytes ;  but  she'll  let  you  know  that  she  holds 
the  prior  place.  The  tent  is  so  fixed  that  she  sees  noth- 
ing beyond  your  hands:  so  there's  absolutely  no  delu- 
sion." He  laughed  once  more.  Then  suddenly  he  low- 
ered his  voice  and  slackened  his  steps.  "  Here  we  are !  " 
he  whispered  in  pretended  awe. 

At  the  end  of  the  path  the  space  widened  to  the  full 
breadth  of  the  conservatory.  The  light  was  dimmed, 
giving  an  added  impression  of  distance ;  away  to  the  left 
Loder  heard  the  sound  of  splashing  water,  and  on  his 
right  hand  he  caught  his  first  glimpse  of  the  tent  that 
was  his  goal. 

It  was  an  artistic  little  erection — a  pavilion  constructed 
of  silky  fabric,  that  showed  bronze  in  the  light  of  an 
oriental  lamp  that  hung  above  its  entrance.  As  they 
drew  closer  to  it,  a  man  emerged.  He  stood  for  a  mo- 
ment, uncertainly  looking  about  him ;  then  catching  sight 
of  them  he  came  forward  laughing. 

"  By  George ! "  he  exclaimed,  "  it's  as  dark  as  limbc 
in  there !  I  didn't  see  you  at  first.  But  I  say,  Blessing- 
ton,  it's  a  beastly  shame  to  have  that  thunder-cloud  bar- 
rier shutting  off  the  sorceress.  If  she  gazes  at  the  crys- 
tal, mayn't  we  have  something  to  gaze  at  too  ?  " 


112  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Blessington  laughed.  "  You  want  too  much,  Gall- 
try,"  he  said.  "  Lady  Astrupp  understands  the  value  of 
the  unattainable.  Come  along,  sir! "  he  ad-'cd  to  Loder, 
drawing  him  forward  with  an  energetic  pressure  of  the 
arm. 

Loder  responded,  and  as  he  did  so  a  flicker  of  curi- 
osity touched  his  mind  for  the  first  time.  He  wondered 
for  an  instant  who  this  woman  was,  who  aroused  so 
much  comment.  And  with  the  speculation  came  the  re- 
membrance of  how  he  had  assured  Chilcote  that  on  one 
point  at  least  he  was  invulnerable.  He  had  spoken  then 
from  the  height  of  a  past  experience — an  experience  so 
fully  past  that  he  wondered  now  if  it  had  been  as  staple 
a  guarantee  as  he  had  then  believed.  Man's  capacity 
for  outliving  is  astonishingly  complete.  The  long  ago 
incident  in  the  Italian  mountains  had  faded,  like  a  cray- 
on study  in  which  the  tones  have  merged  and  gradually 
lost  character.  The  past  had  paled  before  the  present — 
as  golden  hair  might  pale  before  black.  The  simile  came 
with  apparent  irrelevance.  Then  again  Blessington 
pressed  his  arm. 

"  Now,  sir ! "  he  said,  drawing  away  and  lifting  the 
curtain  that  hung  before  the  entrance  of  the  tent. 

Loder  looked  at  the  amused  boyish  face  lighted  by 
the  hanging  lamp  and  smiled;  then  with  a  shrug  of  the 
shoulders  he  entered  the  pavilion,  and  the  curtain  fell 
behind  him. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

On  entering  the  pavilion  Loder's  first  feeling  was  one 
of  annoyed  awkwardness  at  finding  himself  in  almost 
total  darkness.  But,  as  his  eyes  grew  accustomed  to 
the  gloom,  the  feeling  vanished,  and  the  absurdity  of  the 
position  came  to  his  mind. 

The  tent  was  small,  heavily  draped  with  silk,  and 
smelling  of  musk.  It  was  divided  into  two  sections  by 
an  immovable  curtain  that  hung  from  the  roof  to  within 
a  few  feet  of  the  floor.  The  only  furniture  on  Loder's 


THE  MASQUER ADERS.  113 

side  was  one  low  chair,  and  the  only  light  a  faint  radi- 
ance that,  coming  from  the  invisible  half  of  the  pavilion, 
spread  across  the  floor  in  a  pale  band.  For  a  short  space 
he  stood  uncertain,  then  his  hesitation  was  brought  to  an 
end. 

"  Please  sit  down,"  said  a  low  soft  voice. 

For  a  further  moment  he  stood  undecided.  The  voice 
sounded  so  unexpectedly  near.  In  the  quiet  and  dark- 
ness of  the  place  it  seemed  to  possess  a  disproportionate 
weight — almost  the  weight  of  a  familiar  thing.  At  last, 
with  a  sudden,  unanalyzed  touch  of  relief,  he  located  the 
impression.  It  was  the  similarity  to  Lady  Bramfell's 
sweet  slow  tones  that  had  stirred  his  mind.  With  a 
sense  of  satisfaction  he  drew  the  chair  forward  and  sat 
down. 

Then  for  the  first  time  he  saw  that  on  the  other  side 
of  the  partition,  and  below  it  by  a  few  inches,  there  was 
a  small  table  of  polished  wood,  on  which  stood  an  open 
book,  a  crystal  ball,  and  a  gold  dish  filled  with  ink.  These 
were  arranged  on  the  side  of  the  table  nearest  to  him, 
the  farther  side  being  out  of  his  range  of  vision.  An 
amused  interest  touched  him  as  he  made  his  position 
more  comfortable.  Whoever  this  woman  was,  she  had 
an  eye  for  stage  management, — she  knew  how  to  mar- 
shal her  effects.  He  found  himself  waiting  with  some 
curiosity  for  the  next  injunction  from  behind  the  cur- 
tain. 

"  The  art  of  crystal-gazing,"  began  the  voice  after  a 
pause,  "  is  one  of  the  oldest  known  arts."  Loder  sat  for- 
ward. The  thought  of  Lady  Bramfell  mingled  discon- 
certingly with  some  other  thought  more  distant  and  less 
easy  to  secure. 

"  To  obtain  the  best  results,  the  subject  lays  his  un- 
covered hands  outspread  upon  a  smooth  surface."  It  was 
evident  that  the  invisible  priestess  was  reading  from  the 
open  book,  for  when  the  word  "  surface  "  was  reached 
there  was  a  slight  stir  that  indicated  the  changing  of 
position ;  and  when  the  voice  came  again  it  was  in  a 
different  tone — 


114  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  Please  lay  your  hands  palms  downward  upon  the 
table." 

Loder  smiled  to  himself  in  the  darkness.  He  pictured 
Chilcote  with  his  nerves  and  his  impatience  going 
through  this  ordeal;  then  in  good-humored  silence  he 
leant  forward  and  obeyed  the  command.  His  hands 
rested  on  the  smooth  surface  of  the  table  in  the  bar  of 
light  from  the  unseen  lamp. 

There  was  a  second  in  which  the  seer  was  silent ;  then 
he  fancied  that  she  raised  her  head. 

"  You  must  take  off  your  rings,"  she  said  smoothly. 
"  Any  metal  interferes  with  the  sympathetic  current." 

At  any  other  time  Loder  would  have  laughed;  but 
the  request,  so  casually  and  graciously  made,  sent  all 
possibility  of  irony  far  into  the  background.  The  thought 
of  Giilcote  and  of  the  one  flaw  in  their  otherwise  flaw- 
less scheme  rose  to  his  mind.  Instinctively  he  half 
withdrew  his  hands. 

"Where  is  the  sympathetic  current?"  he  asked  quiet- 
ly. His  thoughts  were  busy  with  the  question  of  whether 
he  would  or  would  not  be  justified  in  beating  an  undig- 
nified retreat. 

"  Between  you  and  me,  of  course,"  the  voice  said 
softly.  It  sounded  languid  but  very  rational.  The  idea 
of  retreat  suddenly  seemed  theatrical.  In  this  world  of 
low  voices  and  shaded  lights  people  never  adopted  ex- 
treme measures — no  occasion  made  a  scene  practicable, 
or  even  allowable.  He  leant  back  slowly,  while  he 
summed  up  the  situation.  If  by  any  unlucky  chance  this 
woman  knew  Chilcote  to  have  adopted  jewelry,  and  had 
seen  the  design  of  his  rings,  the  sight  of  his  own  scarred 
finger  might  suggest  question  and  comment;  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  left  the  pavilion  without  excuse,  or  with- 
out apparent  reason  refused  to  remove  the  rings,  he 
opened  up  a  new  difficulty — a  fresh  road  to  curiosity.  It 
came  upon  him  with  unusual  quickness — the  obstacles 
to,  and  the  need  for,  a  speedy  decision.  He  glanced 
round  the  tent,  then  unconsciously  he  straightened  his 
shoulders.  After  all,  he  had  stepped  into  a  tight  corner ; 
but  there  was  no  need  to  cry  out  in  squeezing  his  way 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  115 

back.  Almost  immediately  he  realized  that  the  soft  in- 
gratiating tones  were  sounding  once  more — 

"  It's  the  passing  of  my  hands  over  yours  while  I  look 
into  the  crystal  that  sets  up  sympathy " — a  slender 
hand  moved  swiftly  into  the  light  and  picked  up  the  ball 
— "  and  makes  my  eyes  see  the  pictures  in  your  mind. 
Now,  will  you  please  take  off  your  rings  ?  " 

The  very  naturalness  of  the  request  disarmed  him.  It 
was  a  risk.  But,  as  he  himself  had  said,  risk  was  the 
salt  of  life! 

"  I'm  afraid  you  think  me  very  troublesome."  The 
voice  came  again,  delicately  low  and  conciliatory. 

For  a  brief  second  Loder  wondered  uncertainly  how 
long  or  how  well  Chilcote  knew  Lady  Astrupp;  then 
he  dismissed  the  question.  Chilcote  had  never  men- 
tioned her  until  to-night,  and  then  casually  as  Lady 
Bramfell's  sister.  What  a  coward  he  was  becoming  in 
throwing  the  dice  with  Fate!  Without  further  delay 
he  drew  off  the  rings,  slipped  them  into  his  pocket,  and 
replaced  his  hands  on  the  smooth  table-top. 

But  at  the  moment  that  he  replaced  them,  a  peculiar 
thing  occurred. 

From  the  farther  side  of  the  dark  partition  came  the 
quick  rustling  stir  of  a  skirt,  and  the  slight  scrape  of  a 
chair  pushed  either  backward  or  forward.  Then  there 
was  silence. 

Now  silence  can  suggest  anything  from  profound 
thought  to  imbecility ;  but  in  this  case  its  suggestion  was 
nil.  That  something  had  happened,  that  some  change 
had  taken  place,  was  as  patent  to  Loder  as  the  darkness 
of  the  ceiling  or  the  band  of  light  that  crossed  the  floor ; 
but  what  had  occasioned  it,  or  what  it  stood  for,  he 
made  no  attempt  to  decide.  He  sat  bitingly  conscious 
of  his  hands  spread  open  on  the  table  under  the  scrutiny 
of  eyes  that  were  invisible  to  him ;  vividly  aware  of  the 
awkwardness  of  his  position.  He  felt  with  instinctive 
certainty  that  a  new  chord  had  been  struck;  but  a  man 
seldom  acts  on  instinctive  certainties.  If  the  exposure  of 
his  hands  had  struck  this  fresh  note,  then  any  added 


116  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

action  would  but  heighten  the  dilemma.  He  sat  silent 
and  motionless. 

Whether  his  impassivity  had  any  bearing  on  the  mo- 
ment he  had  no  means  of  knowing;  but  no  further 
movement  came  from  behind  the  partition.  Whatever  the 
emotions  that  had  caused  the  sharp  swish  of  skirts  and 
the  sharp  scrape  of  the  chair,  they  had  evidently  sub- 
sided, or  been  dominated  by  other  feelings. 

The  next  indication  of  life  that  came  to  him  was  the 
laying  down  of  the  crystal  ball.  It  was  laid  back  upon 
the  table  with  a  slight  jerk  that  indicated  a  decision  come 
to ;  and  almost  simultaneously  the  seer's  voice  came  to 
him  again.  Her  tone  was  lower  now  than  it  had  been 
before,  and  its  extreme  ease  seemed  slightly  shaken — 
whether  by  excitement,  surprise,  or  curiosity  it  was  im- 
possible to  say. 

"  You  will  think  it  strange,"  she  began.  "  You  will 
think "  Then  she  stopped. 

There  was  a  pause,  as  though  she  waited  for  some 
help,  but  Loder  remained  mute.  In  difficulty  a  silent 
tongue  and  a  cool  head  are  usually  a  man's  best  weap- 
ons. 

His  silence  was  disconcerting.  He  heard  her  stir 
again. 

"  You  will  think  it  strange,"  she  began  once  more. 
Then  quite  suddenly  she  checked  and  controlled  her 
voice.  "  You  must  forgive  me,"  she  began  in  a  completely 
different  tone,  "  but  crystal-gazing  is  a  most  illusive 
thing.  Directly  you  put  your  hands  upon  the  table,  I 
felt  that  there  would  be  no  result ;  but  I  wouldn't  admit 
the  defeat.  Women  are  such  keen  anglers  they  can  never 
acknowledge  that  any  fish,  however  big,  has  evaded  the 
hook."  She  laughed  softly. 

At  the  sound  of  the  laugh  Loder  shifted  his  position 
for  the  first  time.  He  could  not  have  told  why,  but 
it  struck  him  with  a  sense  of  confusion.  A  precipitate 
wish  to  rise  and  pass  through  the  doorway  into  the  wider 
spaces  of  the  conservatory  came  to  him,  though  he  made 
no  attempt  to  act  upon  it.  He  knew  that  for  some  inex- 
plicable reason  this  woman  behind  the  screen  had  lied 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  117 

to  him — in  the  control  of  her  speech,  in  her  change  of 
voice.  There  had  been  one  moment  in  which  an  impulse, 
an  emotion,  had  almost  found  voice;  then  training,  in- 
stinct, or  it  might  have  been  diplomacy,  had  conquered, 
and  the  moment  had  passed.  There  was  a  riddle  in  the 
very  atmosphere  of  the  place — and  he  abominated  rid- 
dles. 

But  Lady  Astrupp  was  absorbed  in  her  own  concerns. 
Again  she  changed  her  position ;  and  to  Loder,  listening 
attentively,  it  seemed  that  she  leant  forward  and  ex- 
amined his  hands  afresh.  The  sensation  was  so  acute 
that  he  withdrew  them  involuntarily. 

Again  there  was  a  confused  rustle;  the  crystal  ball 
rolled  from  the  table  and  the  seer  laughed  quickly. 
Obeying  a  strenuous  impulse,  Loder  rose. 

He  had  no  definite  notion  of  what  he  expected  or 
what  he  must  avoid.  He  was  only  conscious  that  the 
pavilion,  with  its  silk  draperies,  its  scent  of  musk,  and 
its  intolerable  secrecy,  was  no  longer  endurable.  He 
felt  cramped  and  confused  in  mind  and  muscle.  He 
stood  for  a  second  to  straighten  his  limbs;  then  he 
turned,  and  moving  directly  forward,  passed  under  the 
portiere. 

After  the  dimness  of  the  pavilion,  the  conservatory 
seemed  comparatively  bright,  but  without  waiting  to 
grow  accustomed  to  the  altered  light,  he  moved  onward 
with  deliberate  haste.  The  long  green  alley  w.as  speed- 
ily traversed ;  in  his  eyes  it  no  longer  possessed  green- 
ness, no  longer  suggested  freshness  or  repose.  It  was 
simply  a  means  to  the  end  upon  which  his  mind  was  set. 

As  he  passed  up  the  flight  of  steps  he  drew  his  rings 
from  his  pocket  and  slipped  them  on.  Then  he  stepped 
into  the  glare  of  the  thronged  corridor. 

Some  one  hailed  him  as  he  passed  through  the  crowd, 
but  with  Chilcote's  most  absorbed  manner  he  hurried  on. 
Through  the  door  of  the  supper-room  he  caught  sight 
of  Blessington  and  Eve,  and  then  only  his  expression 
changed.  He  turned  and  walked  directly  towards  them. 

"  Eve,"  he  said,  "  will  you  excuse  me  ?  I  have  a 
word  to  say  to  Blessington." 


118  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

She  glanced  at  him  in  momentary  surprise;  then  she 
smiled  in  her  quiet  self-possessed  way. 

"  Of  course ! "  she  said.  "  I've  been  wanting  a  chat 
with  Millicent  Gower,  but  Bobby  has  required  so  much 

entertaining "  She  smiled  again,  this  time  at  Bless- 

ington,  and  moved  away  towards  a  tall  pale  girl  in  green 
who  was  standing  alone. 

Instantly  she  had  turned,  Loder  took  Blessington's 
arm. 

"  I  know  you're  tremendously  busy,"  he  began  in  an 
excellent  imitation  of  Chilcote's  hasty  manner — "  I  know 
you're  tremendously  busy,  but  I'm  in  a  fix."  One  glance 
at  Blessington's  healthy  ingenuous  face  told  him  that 
plain  speaking  was  the  method  to  adopt. 

"  Indeed,  sir  ?  "  In  a  moment  Blessington  was  on  the 
alert. 

"  Yes.    And  I — I  want  your  help." 

The  boy  reddened.  That  Chilcote  should  appeal  to 
him,  stirred  him  to  a  feeling  of  pride  and  uncertainty. 

Loder  saw  his  advantage  and  pressed  it  home.  "  It's 
come  about  through  this  crystal-gazing  business.  I'm 
afraid  I  didn't  play  my  part — rather  made  an  ass  of  my- 
self; I  wouldn't  swallow  the  thing  and — and  Lady  As- 

trupp "  He  paused,  measuring  Blessington  with  a 

glance.  "  Well,  my  dear  boy,  you — you  know  what 
women  are ! " 

Blessington  was  only  twenty-three.  He  reddened 
again,  and  assumed  an  air  of  profundity. 

"  I  know,  sir,"  he  said  sagely. 

Loder's  sense  of  humor  was  keen,  but  he  kept  a  grave 
face. 

"  I  knew  you'd  catch  my  meaning,  but  I  want  you  to 
do  something  more.  If  Lady  Astrupp  should  ask  you 
who  was  in  her  tent  this  past  ten  minutes,  I  want  you 
"  again  he  stopped,  looking  at  his  companion's  face. 

"Yes,  sir?" 

"  I  want  you  to  tell  an  immaterial  lie  for  me." 

Blessington  returned  his  glance;  then  he  laughed  a 
little  uncomfortably. 

"But  surely,  sir — ?" 


THE  MASQUERADERS. 

"She  recognized  me,  you  mean ?"  Loder's  eyes 

were  keen  as  steel. 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  you're  wrong.     She  didn't." 

Blessington's  eyebrows  went  up. 

There  was  a  silence.  Loder  glanced  across  the  room. 
Eve  had  parted  from  the  girl  in  green,  and  was  moving 
toward  them,  exchanging  smiles  and  greetings  as  she 
came. 

"  My  wife  is  coming  back,"  he  said.  "  Will  you  do  this 

for  me,  Blessington?  It — it  will  smooth  things " 

He  spoke  quickly,  continuing  to  watch  Eve. 

As  he  had  hoped,  Blessington's  eyes  turned  in  the  same 
direction.  "  'Twill  smooth  things,"  he  repeated, 
"  smooth  them  in — in  a  domestic  way  that  I  can't  ex- 
plain." 

The  shot  told.     Blessington  looked  around. 

"  Right,  sir !  "  he  said.  "  You  may  leave  it  to  me." 
And  before  Loder  could  speak  again,  he  had  turned  and 
disappeared  into  the  crowd. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

His  business  with  Blessington  over,  Loder  breathed 
more  freely.  If  Lady  Astrupp  had  recognized  Chilcote 
by  the  rings,  and  had  been  roused  to  curiosity,  the  inci- 
dent would  demand  settlement  sooner  or  later — settle- 
ment in  what  proportion  he  could  hazard  no  guess;  if, 
on  the  other  hand,  her  obvious  change  of  manner  had 
arisen  from  any  other  source, — he  had  a  hazy  idea  that 
a  woman's  behavior  could  never  be  gauged  by  accepted 
theories, — then  he  had  safeguarded  Chilcote's  interests 
and  his  own  by  his  security  of  Blessington's  promise. 
Blessington,  he  knew,  would  be  reliable  and  discreet. 
With  a  renewal  of  confidence — a  pleasant  feeling  that 
his  uneasiness  had  been  groundless — he  moved  forward 
to  greet  Eve. 

Her  face,  with  its  rich  clear  coloring,  seemed  to  his 


120  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

gaze  to  stand  out  from  the  crowd  of  other  faces  as 
from  a  frame,  and  a  sense  of  pride  touched  him.  In 
every  eye  but  his  own,  her  beauty  belonged  to  him. 

His  face  looked  alive  and  masterful  as  she  reached 
his  side. 

"  May  I  monopolize  you  ?  "  he  said,  with  the  quickness 
of  speech  borrowed  from  Chilcote.  "  We — we  see  so 
little  of  each  other." 

Almost  as  if  compelled,  her  lashes  lifted  and  her  eyes 
met  his.  Her  glance  was  puzzled,  uncertain,  slightly 
confused.  There  was  a  deeper  color  than  usual  in  her 
cheeks.  Loder  felt  something  within  his  own  conscious- 
ness stir  in  response. 

"  You  know  you  are  yielding,"  he  said  suddenly. 

Again  she  blushed. 

He  saw  the  blush,  and  knew  that  it  was  he — his  words, 
his  personality — that  had  called  it  forth.  In  Chilcote's 
actual  semblance  he  had  proved  his  superiority  over 
Chilcote.  For  the  first  time  he  had  been  given  a  tacit, 
personal  acknowledgment  of  his  power.  Involuntarily 
he  drew  nearer  to  her. 

"  Let's  get  out  of  this  crush,"  he  said. 

She  made  no  answer  except  to  bend  her  head ;  and  it 
came  to  him  that,  for  all  her  pride,  she  liked  and  un- 
consciously yielded  to  domination.  With  a  satisfied  ges- 
ture he  turned  to  make  a  passage  towards  the  door. 

But  the  passage  was  more  easily  desired  than  made. 
In  the  few  moments  since  he  had  entered  the  supper- 
room,  the  press  of  people  had  considerably  thickened, 
until  a  block  had  formed  about  the  doorway.  Drawing 
Eve  with  him,  he  moved  forward  for  a  dozen  paces, 
then  paused,  unable  to  make  further  headway. 

As  they  stood  there  he  looked  back  at  her.  "  What  a 
study  in  democracy  a  crowd  always  is !  "  he  said. 

She  responded  with  a  bright  appreciative  glance,  as 
if  surprised  into  naturalness.  And  he  wondered  sharply 
what  she  would  be  like  if  her  enthusiasms  were  really 
aroused.  Then  a  stir  in  the  corridor  outside  caused  a 
movement  inside  the  room;  and  with  a  certain  display 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  121 

of  persistence  he  was  enabled  to  make  the  desired  passage 
to  the  door. 

There  again  they  were  compelled  to  halt;  but  though 
tightly  wedged  into  his  new  position,  and  guarding  Eve 
with  one  arm,  he  was  free  to  survey  the  brilliantly 
thronged  corridor  over  the  head  of  a  man  a  few  inches 
shorter  than  himself,  who  stood  directly  in  front  of 
him. 

"  What  are  we  waiting  for  ? "  he  asked  good- 
humoredly,  addressing  the  back  of  the  stranger's  head. 

The  man  turned,  displaying  a  genial  face,  a  red  mous- 
tache, and  an  eye-glass. 

"  Hallo,  Chilcote !  "  he  said.  "  Hope  it's  not  on  your 
feet  I'm  standing !  " 

Loder  laughed.  "  No,"  he  answered.  "  But  don't 
change  the  position.  If  you  were  an  inch  higher  I  should 
be  blind  as  well  as  crippled." 

The  other  laughed.  It  was  a  pleasant  surprise  to  find 
Chilcote  amiable  under  discomfort.  He  looked  round 
again  in  slight  curiosity. 

Loder  felt  the  scrutiny.  To  create  a  diversion  he 
looked  out  along  the  corridor.  "  I  believe  we  are  wait- 
ing for  something !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What's  this  ?  " 
Then  quite  abruptly  he  ceased  to  speak. 

"  Anything  interesting  ?  "    Eve  touched  his  arm. 

He  said  nothing;  he  made  no  effort  to  look  round. 
His  thoughts  as  well  as  his  words  were  suspended. 

The  man  in  front  of  him  let  his  eye-glass  fall  from 
his  eye,  then  screwed  it  in  again. 

"  Jove !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Here  comes  our  sorceress. 
It's  like  the  progress  of  a  fairy  princess.  I  believe  this 
is  the  meaning  of  our  getting  penned  in  here."  He 
chuckled  delightedly. 

Loder  said  nothing.  He  stared  straight  on  over  the 
other's  head. 

Along  the  corridor,  agreeably  conscious  of  the  hum 
of  admiration  she  aroused,  came  Lillian  Astrupp,  sur- 
rounded by  a  little  court.  Her  delicate  face  was  lit 
up,  her  eyes  shone  under  the  faint  gleam  of  her  hair; 
her  gown  of  gold  embroidery  swept  round  her  gracefully. 


122  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

She  was  radiant  and  triumphant,  but  she  was  also  excited. 
The  excitement  was  evident  in  her  laugh,  in  her  gestures, 
in  her  eyes,  as  they  turned  quickly  in  one  direction  and 
then  another. 

Loder.  gazing  in  stupefaction  over  the  other  man's  head, 
saw  it — felt  and  understood  it — with  a  mind  that  leaped 
back  over  a  space  of  years.  As  in  a  shifting  panorama, 
he  saw  a  night  of  disturbance  and  confusion  in  a  far-off 
Italian  valley — a  confusion  from  which  one  face  shone 
out  with  something  of  the  pale  alluring  radiance  that 
filtered  over  the  hillside  from  the  crescent  moon.  It 
passed  across  his  consciousness  slowly,  but  with  a  slow 
completeness;  and  in  its  light  the  incidents  of  the  past 
half-hour  stood  out  in  a  new  aspect.  The  echo  of  recol- 
lection stirred  by  Lady  Bramfell's  voice — the  re-echo 
of  it  in  her  sister's  tones;  his  own  blindness,  his  own 
egregious  assurance,  all  struck  across  his  mind. 

Meanwhile  the  party  about  Lillian  drew  nearer.  He 
felt  with  instinctive  certainty  that  the  supper-room  was 
its  destination,  but  he  remained  motionless,  held  by  a 
species  of  fatalism.  He  watched  her  draw  near  with  an 
unmoved  face,  but  in  the  brief  space  that  passed  while 
she  traversed  the  corridor,  he  gauged  to  the  full  the  hold 
that  the  new  atmosphere,  the  new  existence,  had  gained 
over  his  mind.  With  an  unlooked-for  rush  of  feeling, 
he  realized  how  dearly  he  would  part  with  it. 

As  Lillian  came  closer,  the  meaning  of  her  manner 
became  clearer  to  him.  She  talked  incessantly,  laughing 
now  and  then,  but  her  eyes  were  never  quiet.  These 
skimmed  the  length  of  the  corridor,  then  glanced  over 
the  heads  crowded  in  the  doorway. 

"  I'll  have  something  quite  sweet,  Geoffrey,"  she  was 
saving  to  the  man  beside  her,  as  she  came  within  hearing, 
"  You  know  what  I  like — a  sort  of  snowflake  wrapped 
up  in  sugar."  As  she  said  the  words  her  glance  wandered 
Loder  saw  it  rest  uninterestedly  on  a  boy  a  yard  or  twc 
in  front  of  him,  then  move  to  the  man  over  whose  head 
he  gazed,  then  lift  itself  inevitably  to  his  face. 

The  glance  was  quick  and  direct.  He  saw  the  look 
cf  recognition  spring  across  it ;  he  saw  her  move  forwarc 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  123 

suddenly,  as  the  crowd  in  the  corridor  parted  to  let  her 
pass.  Then  he  saw  what  seemed  to  him  a  miracle. 

Her  whole  expression  altered,  her  lips  parted,  and  she 
colored  with  annoyance.  She  looked  like  a  spoiled  child 
who  seeing  a  bon-bon  box,  opens  it — to  find  it  empty. 

As  the  press  about  the  doorway  suddenly  melted  to 
give  her  passage,  the  red-haired  man  in  front  of  him  was 
the  first  to  take  advantage  of  the  space.  "  Jove !  Lillian," 
he  said,  moving  forward,  "  you  look  as  if  you  expected 
Chilcote  to  be  somebody  else,  and  are  disappointed  to  find 
he's  only  himself ! "  He  laughed  delightedly  at  his  own 
joke. 

The  words  were  exactly  the  stimulus  Lillian  needed. 
She  smiled  her  usual  sweet  smile  as  she  turned  her  eyes 
upon  him. 

"  My  dear  Leonard,  you're  using  your  eye-glass ;  and 
when  that  happens  you're  never  responsible  for  what 
you  see."  Her  words  came  more  slowly  and  with  a 
touch  of  languid  amusement.  Her  composure  was  sud- 
denly restored. 

Then  for  the  first  time  Loder  changed  his  position. 
Moved  by  an  impulse  he  made  no  effort  to  dissect,  he 
stepped  closer  to  Eve's  side  and  slipped  his  arm  through 
hers — successfully  concealing  his  left  hand. 

The  warmth  of  her  skin  through  her  long  glove  thrilled 
him  unexpectedly.  His  impulse  had  been  one  of  self- 
defense,  but  the  result  was  of  a  different  character.  At 
the  quick  contact  the  wish  to  fight  for — to  hold  and  defend 
— the  position  that  had  grown  so  dear,  woke  in  renewed 
force.  With  a  sudden  determination  he  turned  again 
towards  Lillian. 

"  I  caught  the  same  impression — without  an  eye-glass," 
he  said.  "  Why  did  you  look  like  that?  "  He  asked  the 
question  steadily  and  with  apparent  carelessness,  though 
beneath  his  audacity  his  reason  stood  aghast — his  common 
sense  cried  aloud  that  it  was  impossible  for  the  eyes  that 
had  seen  his  face  in  admiration,  in  love,  in  contempt,  to 
fail  now  in  recognition.  The  air  seemed  breathless  while 
he  spoke  and  waited.  His  impression  of  Lillian  was 
a  shimmering  of  gold  dress  and  gold  hair ;  all  that  he  was 


124  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

physically  conscious  of  was  the  pressure  of  his  hand  on 
Eve's  arm  and  the  warmth  of  her  skin  through  the  soft 
glove.  Then  abruptly  the  mist  lifted.  He  saw  Lillian's 
eyes — indifferent,  amused,  slightly  contemptuous;  and 
a  second  later  he  heard  her  voice. 

"  My  dear  Jack,"  she  said  sweetly,  "  how  absurd  of 
you!  It  was  simply  the  contrast  of  your  eyes  peering 
over  Leonard's  hair.  It  was  like  a  gorgeous  sunset  with 
a  black  cloud  overhead."  She  laughed.  "  Do  you  see 
what  I  mean,  Eve  ?  " 

Eve  had  been  looking  calmly  ahead.  She  turned  now 
and  smiled  serenely.  Loder  felt  no  vibration  of  the  arm 
he  held,  yet  by  an  instant  intuition  he  knew  that  the  two 
women  were  antagonistic.  He  experienced  it  with  the 
divination  that  follows  upon  a  moment  of  acute  suspense. 
He  understood  it,  as  he  understood  Lillian's  look  of 
recognition  when  his  forehead,  eyes,  and  nose  had  shown 
him  to  be  himself,  as  she  had  known  him;  her  blank 
incredulity  when  his  close  shaven  lips  and  chin  had  pro- 
claimed him  Chilcote. 

He  felt  like  a  man  who  has  looked  into  an  abyss  and 
stepped  back  from  the  edge,  outwardly  calm  but  mental- 
ly shaken.  The  commonplaces  of  life  seemed  for  the 
moment  to  hold  deeper  meanings.  He  did  not  hear  Eve's 
answer;  he  paid  no  heed  to  Lillian's  next  remark.  He 
saw  her  smile  and  turn  again  to  the  red-haired  man ;  he 
saw  her  move  on  into  the  supper-room,  followed  by  her 
little  court.  Then  he  pressed  the  arm  he  was  still  holding. 
He  felt  an  urgent  need  of  companionship — of  a  human 
expression  to  the  crisis  he  had  passed. 

"  Shall  we  get  out  of  this  ?  "  he  asked  again. 

Eve  looked  up. 

"  Out  of  the  room  ?  "  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her  as  he  had  looked  before — compelling 
her  regard. 

"  Out  of  the  room — and  the  house,"  he  answered. 
"  Let  us  go — home," 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  125 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

The  necessary  formalities  of  departure  were  speedily 
got  through.  The  passage  of  the  corridors,  the  gaining 
of  the  carriage,  seemed  to  Loder  to  be  marvelously  simple 
proceedings.  Then,  as  he  sat  by  Eve's  side  and  again 
felt  the  forward  movement  of  the  horses,  he  had  leisure 
for  the  first  time  to  wonder  whether  the  time  that  had 
passed  since  last  he  occupied  that  position  had  actually 
been  lived  through. 

Only  that  night  he  had  unconsciously  compared  one 
incident  in  his  life  to  a  sketch  in  which  the  lights  and 
shadows  have  been  obliterated  and  lost.  Now  that 
picture  rose  before  him,  startlingly  and  incredibly  intact. 
He  saw  the  sunlit  houses  of  Santasalare,  backgrounded 
by  the  sunlit  hills ;  saw  them  as  plainly  as  when  he  him- 
self had  sketched  them  on  his  memory.  Every  detail  of 
the  scene  remained  the  same,  even  to  the  central  figure — 
only  the  eye  and  the  hand  of  the  artist  had  changed. 

At  this  point  Eve  broke  in  upon  his  thoughts.  Her 
first  words  were  curiously  coincidental. 

"What  did  you  think  of  Lillian  Astrupp  to-night?" 
she  asked.  "Wasn't  her  gown  perfect?" 

He  lifted  his  head  with  a  start  of  guilt.  Then  he 
answered  straight  from  his  thoughts. 

"I— I  didn't  notice  it,"  he  said.  "But  her  eyes  re- 
minded me  of  a  cat's  eyes — and  she  walks  like  a  cat.  I 
never  seemed  to  see  it  until  to-night." 

Eve  changed  her  position. 

"  She  was  very  artistic,"  she  said  tentatively.  "  Don't 
you  think  the  gold  gown  was  beautiful  with  her  hair?" 

Loder  felt  surprised.  He  was  convinced  that  Eve  dis- 
liked the  other,  and  he  was  not  sufficiently  versed  in 
women  to  understand  her  praise. 

"  I  thought,"  he  began.  Then  he  wisely  stopped,  "  I 
didn't  see  the  gown,"  he  substituted. 

Eve  looked  out  at  the  window.  "  How  unappreciative 
men  are !  "  she  said.  But  her  tone  was  strangely  free  from 
censure. 

After  that  there  was  silence  until  Grosvenor  Square 


126  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

was  reached.  Having  left  the  carriage  and  passed  into 
the  house,  Eve  paused  for  a  moment  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  to  give  an  order  to  Crapham,  who  was  still  in 
attendance  in  the  hall ;  and  again  Loder  had  an  oppor- 
tunity of  studying  her.  As  he  looked,  a  sharp  comparison 
rose  to  his  mind. 

"  A  fairy  princess !  "  some  one  had  said  as  Lillian 
Astrupp  came  into  view  along  the  Bramfell's  corridor; 
and  at  the  moment  the  simile  had  seemed  particularly  apt. 
With  her  grace,  her  delicacy,  her  subtle  attraction,  she 
might  well  be  the  outcome  of  imagination.  But  with 
Eve  it  was  different.  She  also  was  graceful  and  attractive 
— but  it  was  grace  and  attraction  of  a  different  order. 
One  was  beautiful  with  the  beauty  of  the  white  rose  that 
springs  from  the  hothouse  and  withers  at  the  first  touch 
of  harsh  air;  the  other  was  beautiful  with  the  beauty  of 
the  wild  rose  on  the  cliffs  above  the  sea,  that  keeps  its 
petals  fine  and  transparent  in  face  of  salt  spray  and  wet 
mist.  Eve  too  had  her  realm,  but  it  was  the  realm  of  real 
things.  A  great  confidence,  a  feeling  that  here  one  might 
rely,  even  if  all  other  faiths  were  shaken,  touched  him 
suddenly.  For  a  moment  he  stood  irresolute,  watching 
her  mount  the  stairs  with  her  easy  assured  step.  Then 
decision  came  to  him.  Fate  favored  him  to-night!  He 
was  in  luck  to-night!  He  would  put  his  fortune  to  one 
more  test.  He  swung  across  the  hall  and  ran  up  the 
stairs. 

His  face  was  keen  with  interest  as  he  reached  her  side. 
The  hard  outline  of  his  features  and  the  hard  grayness  of 
his  eyes  were  softened  as  when  he  had  paused  that  night 
to  talk  with  Lakeley.  Action  was  the  breath  of  his 
nostrils,  and  his  face  changed  under  it  as  another  man's 
might  change  under  the  influence  of  stirring  music  or 
good  wine. 

Eve  saw  the  look,  and  again  the  uneasy  expression  of 
surprise  crossed  her  eyes.  She  paused,  her  hand  resting 
on  the  banister. 

Loder  looked  at  her  directly.  "  Will  you  come  into 
the  study,  as  you  came  that  other  night  ?  There's  some- 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  127 

thing  I  want  to  say."  He  spoke  quietly.  He  felt  master 
of  himself  and  of  her. 

She  hesitated,  glanced  at  him,  then  glanced  away. 

"Will  you  come?"  he  said  again.  And  as  he  said  it 
his  eyes  rested  on  the  sweep  of  her  thick  eyelashes,  the 
curve  of  the  black  hair. 

At  last  her  lashes  lifted,  and  the  perplexity  and  doubt 
in  her  eyes  stirred  him.  Without  waiting  for  her  answer, 
he  leant  forward. 

"  Say  yes  1 "    he  urged.    "  I  don't  often  ask  for  favors." 

Still  she  hesitated ;  then  her  decision  was  made  for  her. 
With  a  new  boldness  he  touched  her  arm,  drawing  her 
forward  gently  but  decisively  towards  Chilcote's  rooms. 

In  the  study  a  fire  burned  brightly ;  the  desk  was  laden 
with  papers;  the  lights  were  nicely  adjusted;  even  the 
chairs  were  in  their  accustomed  places.  Loder's  senses 
responded  to  each  suggestion.  It  seemed  but  a  day  since 
he  had  seen  it  last.  It  was  precisely  as  he  had  left  it — 
the  niche  needing  but  the  man. 

To  hide  his  emotion  he  crossed  the  floor  quickly  and 
drew  a  chair  forward.  In  less  than  six  hours  he  had  run 
up  and  down  the  scale  of  emotions.  He  had  looked 
despair  in  the  face,  until  the  sudden  sight  of  Chilcote  had 
lifted  him  to  the  skies ;  since  then,  surprise  had  assailed 
him  in  its  strongest  form,  and  he  had  known  the  full 
meaning  of  the  word  risk.  From  every  contingency  he 
had  come  out  conqueror.  He  bent  over  the  chair  as  he 
pulled  it  forward,  to  hide  the  expression  in  his  eyes. 

"  Sit  down !  "  he  said  gently. 

Eve  moved  towards  him.  She  moved  slowly,  as  if 
half  afraid.  Many  emotions  stirred  her — distrust,  un- 
certainty, and  a  curious  half-dominant,  half-suppressed 
questioning  that  it  was  difficult  to  define.  Loder  remem- 
bered her  shrinking  coldness,  her  reluctant  tolerance  on 
the  night  of  his  first  coming,  and  his  individuality,  his 
certainty  of  power  kindled  afresh.  Never  had  he  been 
so  vehemently  himself;  never  had  Chilcote  seemed  so 
complete  a  shadow. 

As  Eve  seated  herself,  he  moved  forward  and  leant 
over  the  back  of  her  chair.  The  impulse  that  had  filled 


128  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

him  in  his  interview  with  Renwick — that  had  goaded 
him  as  he  drove  to  the  reception — was  dominant  again. 

"  I  tried  to  say  something  as  we  drove  to  the  Bram- 
fell's  to-night,"  he  began.  Like  many  men  who  possess 
eloquence  for  an  impersonal  cause,  he  was  brusque,  even 
blunt,  in  the  stating  of  his  own  case.  "  May  I  hark 
back  and  go  on  from  where  I  broke  off?  " 

Eve  half  turned.  Her  face  was  still  puzzled  and  ques- 
tioning. 

"  Of  course."  She  sat  forward  again,  clasping  her 
hands. 

He  looked  thoughtfully  at  the  back  of  her  head,  at 
the  slim  outline  of  her  shoulders,  the  glitter  of  the  dia- 
monds about  her  neck. 

"  Do  you  remember  the  day  three  weeks  ago  that  we 
talked  together  in  this  room?  The  day  a  great  many 
things  seemed  possible  ?  " 

This  time  she  did  not  look  round.  She  kept  her  gaze 
upon  the  fire. 

"Do  you  remember?"  he  persisted  quietly.  In  his 
college  days,  men  who  heard  that  tone  of  quiet  persis- 
tence had  been  wont  to  lose  heart.  Eve  heard  it  now  for 
the  first  time,  and  unconsciously  answered  to  it. 

"  Yes,  I  remember,"  she  said. 

"  On  that  day  you  believed  in  me "  In  his  earnest- 
ness he  no  longer  simulated  Chilcote,  he  spoke  with  his 
own  steady  reliance.  He  saw  Eve  stir,  he  saw  her  un- 
clasp and  clasp  her  hands,  but  he  went  steadily  on. 

"  On  that  day  you  saw  me  in  a  new  light — you 
acknowledged  me."  He  emphasized  the  slightly  peculiar 
word.  "  But  since  that  day  your  feelings  have  changed 
— your  faith  in  me  has  fallen  away."  He  watched  her 
closely,  but  she  made  no  sign,  save  to  lean  still  nearer  to 
the  fife. 

He  crossed  his  arms  over  the  back  of  her  chair. 

"  You  were  justified,"  he  said  suddenly.  "  I've  not 
been  myself  since  that  day."  As  he  said  the  word  his 
coolness  forsook  him  slightly.  He  loathed  the  necessary 
lie,  yet  his  egotism  clamored  for  vindication.  "  All  men 
have  their  misfortunes,"  he  went  on;  "there  are  times 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  129 

— there  are  days  and  weeks  when  I — when  my " 

The  word  "  nerves  "  touched  his  tongue,  hung  upon  it, 
then  died  away  unspoken. 

Very  quietly,  almost  without  a  sound,  Eve  had  risen 
and  was  looking  at  him.  She  was  standing  very  straight, 
her  face  a  little  pale,  the  hand  that  rested  on  the  arm  of 
her  chair  trembling  slightly. 

"  John,"  she  said  quickly,  "  don't  say  that  word — 
don't  say  that  hideous  word  '  nerves ! '  I  don't  feel  that 
I  can  bear  it  to-night — not  just  to-night.  Can  you  un- 
derstand ? " 

Loder  stepped  back.  Without  comprehending,  he  felt 
suddenly  and  strangely  at  a  loss.  Something  in  her  face 
struck  him  silent  and  perplexed.  It  seemed  that  with- 
out preparation  he  had  stepped  upon  dangerous  ground. 
With  an  undefined  apprehension  he  waited,  looking  at 
her. 

"  I  can't  explain  it,"  she  went  on  with  nervous  haste. 
"  I  can't  give  any  reasons ;  but  quite  suddenly  the — the 
farce  has  grown  unbearable.  I  used  not  to  think — used 
not  even  to  care — but  suddenly  things  have  changed,  or 
I  have  changed."  She  paused,  confused  and  distressed. 
"  Why  should  it  be  ?  Why  should  things  change  ?  "  She 
asked  the  question  sharply,  as  if  in  appeal  against  her 
own  incredulity. 

Loder  turned  aside.  He  was  afraid  of  the  triumph — 
volcanic  and  irrepressible — that  her  admission  roused. 

"  Why  ? — why  ?  "  she  said  again. 

He  turned  back  slowly.  "  You  forget  that  I'm  not  a 
magician,"  he  said  gently.  "  I  hardly  know  what  you 
are  speaking  of." 

For  a  moment  she  was  silent ;  but  in  that  moment  her 
eyes  spoke.  Pain,  distress,  pride — all  strove  for  expres- 
sion. At  last  her  lips  parted. 

"  Do  you  say  that  in  seriousness  ? "  she  asked. 

It  was  no  moment  for  fencing,  and  Loder  knew  it. 
"  In  seriousness,"  he  replied  shortly. 

"  Then  I  shall  speak  seriously  too."  Her  voice  shook 
slightly  and  the  color  came  back  into  her  face,  but  the 
hand  on  the  arm  of  the  chair  ceased  to  tremble. 


130  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  For  more  than  four  years  I  have  known  that  you 
take  drugs — for  more  than  four  years  I  have  acquiesced 
in  your  deceptions,  in  your  meannesses "  In  the  in- 
tensity of  her  feeling,  her  voice  suddenly  broke  off. 

There  was  an  instant's  silence.  Then  Loder  stepped 
forward. 

"  You  knew — for  four  years  ?  "  he  said  very  slowly. 
For  the  first  time  that  night  he  remembered  Chilcote  and 
forgot  himself. 

Eve  lifted  her  head  with  a  quick  gesture.  It  seemed 
as  if,  in  flinging  off  discretion  and  silence,  she  breathed 
in  the  new  relief  of  speech. 

"  Yes,  I  knew.  Perhaps  I  should  have  spoken  when 
I  first  surprised  the  secret;  but  it's  all  so  past  that  it's 
useless  to  speculate  now.  It  was  Fate,  I  suppose.  I 
was  very  young,  you  were  very  unapproachable,  and — 
and  we  had  no  love  to  make  the  way  easy."  For  a  sec- 
ond her  glance  faltered,  and  she  looked  away.  "  A  wom- 
an's— a  girl's  disillusionment  is  a  very  sad  comedy :  it 
should  never  have  an  audience."  She  laughed  a  little 
bitterly.  "  I  saw  all  the  deceits,  all  the  subterfuges,  all 
the — lies."  She  said  the  word  deliberately,  meeting  his 
eyes. 

Again  he  thought  of  Chilcote,  but  his  face  paled. 

"  I  saw  it  all,"  she  went  on.  "  I  lived  with  it  all  till  I 
grew  hard  and  indifferent — till  I  acquiesced  in  your 
'  nerves '  as  readily  as  all  the  rest  of  the  world  who 
hadn't  suspected  and  didn't  know."  Again  she  laughed 
nervously.  "  I  thought  the  indifference  would  last  for- 
ever. If  one  lives  in  a  groove  for  years  one  gets  frozen 
up.  I  never  felt  more  petrified  than  on  the  night  Mr. 
Fraide  spoke  to  me  of  you — asked  me  to  use  my  influ- 
ence. Then  on  that  night " 

"  Yes.     On  that  night  ?  "    Loder's  voice  was  tense. 

But  her  excitement  had  suddenly  fallen.  Whether  his 
glance  had  quelled  it  or  whether  the  force  of  her  feel- 
ing had  worked  itself  out  it  was  hard  to  say;  but  her 
eyes  had  lost  their  resolution.  She  stood  hesitating  for 
a  moment,  then  she  turned  and  moved  to  the  mantel 
piece. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  131 

"  That  night  you  found  me  changed  ?  "  Loder  was 
insistent. 

"  Changed  and  yet  not  changed."  She  spoke  reluc- 
tantly, with  averted  head. 

"And  what  did  you  think?" 

Again  she  was  silent;  then  again  a  faint  excitement 
tinged  her  cheeks. 

"  I  thought,"  she  began.  "  It  seemed "  Once  more 

she  paused — hampered  by  her  own  uncertainty,  her  own 
sense  of  puzzling  incongruity. 

"  I  don't  know  why  I  speak  like  this,"  she  went  on 
at  last,  as  if  in  justification  of  herself — "  why  I  want  to 
speak.  But  a  feeling — an  extraordinary,  incomprehen- 
sible feeling — seems  to  urge  me  on.  The  same  feeling 
that  came  to  me  on  the  day  we  had  tea  together;  the 
feeling  that  made  me — that  almost  made  me  believe " 

"  Believe  what  ?  "  The  words  escaped  him  without 
volition. 

At  sound  of  his  voice  she  turned.  "  Believe  that  a 
miracle  had  happened;  that  you  had  found  strength — 
had  freed  yourself." 

"From  drugs?" 

"  From  drugs." 

In  the  silence  that  followed  Loder  lived  through  a 
century  of  suggestion  and  indecision.  His  first  feeling 
was  for  himself,  but  his  first  clear  thought  was  for  Chil- 
cote  and  their  compact.  He  stood,  metaphorically,  on  a 
stone  in  the  middle  of  a  stream — balancing  on  one  foot, 
then  on  the  other ;  looking  to  the  right  bank,  then  to  the 
left.  At  last,  responding  to  the  call  of  necessity,  in- 
spiration came.  By  one  plunge  he  might  save  both  Chil- 
cote  and  himself! 

He  crossed  quickly  to  the  fireplace  and  stood  by  Eve. 

"  You  were  right  in  your  belief,"  he  said.  "  For  all 
that  time — from  the  night  you  spoke  to  me  of  Fraide 
to  the  day  you  had  tea  in  this  room — I  never  touched  a 
drug." 

She  moved  suddenly,  and  he  saw  her  face.  "  John," 
she  said  unsteadily.  "  You — I — I  have  known  you  to  He 
to  me  about  other  things." 


1S2  JOHN  GHILCOTE;  OR, 

With  a  hasty  movement  he  averted  his  head.  The 
doubt,  the  appeal  in  her  words  shocked  him.  The  whole 
isolation  of  her  life  seemed  summed  up  in  the  one 
short  sentence.  For  the  instant  he  forgot  Chilcote. 
With  a  reaction  of  feeling  he  turned  to  her  agaia 

"  Look  at  me ! "  he  said  brusquely. 

She  raised  her  eyes. 

"  Do  you  believe  now  that  I'm  speaking  the  truth  ?  " 

She  searched  his  eyes  intently — the  doubt  and  hesi- 
tancy still  struggling  in  her  face. 

"  But  the  last  three  weeks  ? "  she  said  reluctantly. 
"  How  can  you  ask  me  to  believe  ?  " 

Loder  had  expected  this  and  he  met  it  steadily ;  never- 
theless his  courage  faltered.  To  deceive  this  woman, 
even  to  justify  himself,  had  in  the  last  half-hour  become 
something  sacrilegious. 

"  The  last  three  weeks  must  be  buried,"  he  said  hur- 
riedly. "  No  man  could  free  himself  suddenly  from — 
from  a  vice."  He  broke  off  abruptly.  He  hated  Chil- 
cote; he  hated  himself.  Then  Eve's  face,  raised  in  dis- 
tressed appeal,  overshadowed  all  scruples. 

"  You  have  been  silent  and  patient  for  years,"  he  said 
suddenly.  "  Can  you  be  patient  and  silent  a  little 
longer  ? "  He  spoke  without  consideration.  He  was 
aware  of  no  selfishness  beneath  his  words.  In  the  first 
exercise  of  conscious  strength,  the  primitive  desire  to 
reduce  all  elements  to  his  own  sovereignty  submerged 
every  other  emotion. 

"  I  can't  enter  into  the  thing.  Like  you,  I  give  no 
explanations.  I  can  only  tell  you  that  on  the  day  we 
talked  together  in  this  room  I  was  myself — in  the  full 
possession  of  my  reason,  the  full  knowledge  of  my  own 
capacities.  The  man  you  have  known  in  the  last  three 
weeks,  the  man  you  have  imagined  in  the  last  four  years 
is  a  shadow,  an  unreality — a  weakness  in  human  form. 
There  is  a  new  Chilcote — if  you  will  only  see  him." 

Eve  was  trembling  as  he  ceased ;  her  face  was  flushed, 
there  was  a  strange  brightness  in  her  eyes.  She  was 
moved  beyond  herself. 

"  But  the  other  you — the  old  you  ?  " 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  133 

"  You  must  be  patient."  He  looked  down  into  the  fire. 
"  Times  like  the  last  three  weeks  will  come  again — must 
come  again — they  are  inevitable.  When  they  do  come, 
you  must  shut  your  eyes — you  must  blind  yourself.  You 
must  ignore  them — and  me.  Is  it  a  compact  ?  "  He  still 
avoided  her  eyes. 

She  turned  to  him.  "  Yes — if  you  wish  it,"  she  said 
below  her  breath. 

He  was  conscious  of  her  glance,  but  he  dared  not  meet 
it.  He  felt  sick  at  the  part  he  was  playing,  yet  he  held 
to  it  tenaciously. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  could  do  what  few  men  and  fewer 
women  are  capable  of  ?  "  he  asked  at  last.  "  I  wonder 
if  you  could  learn  to  live  in  the  present  ?  "  He  lifted  his 
head  slowly  and  met  her  eyes. 

"  This  is  an — an  experiment ;  and,  like  all  experiments, 
it  has  good  phases  and  bad.  When  the  bad  phases  come 
around  I — I  want  you  to  tell  yourself  that  you  are  not 
altogether  alone  in  your  unhappiness;  that  I  am  suffer- 
ing too — in  another  way." 

There  was  silence  when  he  had  spoken,  and  for  a 
space  it  seemed  that  Eve  would  make  no  response.  Then 
the  last  surprise  in  a  day  of  surprises  came  to  him.  With 
a  slight  stir,  a  slight  quick  rustle  of  skirts,  she  stepped 
forward  and  laid  her  hand  in  his. 

The  gesture  was  simple  and  very  sweet ;  her  eyes  were 
soft  and  full  of  light  as  she  raised  her  face  to  his — her 
lips  parted  in  unconscious  appeal. 

There  is  no  surrender  so  seductive  as  the  surrender  of 
a  proud  woman.  Loder's  blood  stirred;  the  undeniable 
suggestion  of  the  moment  thrilled  and  disconcerted  him 
in  a  tumult  of  thought.  Honor,  duty,  principle  rose  in 
a  triple  barrier;  but  honor,  duty,  and  principle  are  but 
words  to  a  headstrong  man.  The  full  significance  of  his 
position  came  to  him  as  it  had  never  come  before.  His 
hand  closed  on  hers,  he  bent  towards  her,  his  pulses  beat- 
ing unevenly. 

"  Eve !  "  he  said.  Then  at  sound  of  his  voice  he  sud- 
denly hesitated.  It  was  the  voice  of  a  man  who  has  for- 
gotten everything  but  his  own  desire. 


134  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

For  a  second  he  stayed  motionless;  then  very  quietly 
he  drew  away  from  her,  releasing  her  hand. 
"  No,"  he  said ;  "  no — I  haven't  got  the  right." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

That  night,  for  almost  the  first  time  since  he  had 
adopted  his  dual  role,  Loder  slept  ill.  He  was  not  a 
man  over  whom  imagination  held  any  powerful  sway — 
his  doubts  and  misgivings  seldom  ran  to  speculation 
upon  future  possibilities;  nevertheless  the  fact  that,  con- 
sciously or  unconsciously,  he  had  adopted  a  new  attitude 
toward's  Eve  came  home  to  him  with  unpleasant  force 
during  the  hours  of  darkness ;  and  long  before  the  first 
hint  of  daylight  had  slipped  through  the  heavy  window- 
curtains,  he  had  arranged  a  plan  of  action — a  plan  where- 
in, by  the  simple  method  of  altogether  avoiding  her,  he 
might  soothe  his  own  conscience  and  safeguard  Chil- 
cote's  domestic  interests. 

It  was  a  satisfactory  if  a  somewhat  negative  arrange- 
ment, and  he  rose  next  morning  with  a  feeling  that  things 
would  inevitably  shape  themselves.  But  sometimes 
chance  has  a  disconcerting  knack  of  forestalling  our 
best-planned  schemes.  He  dressed  slowly  and  descended 
to  his  solitary  breakfast  with  the  soothing  sensation  of 
having  put  last  night  out  of  consideration  by  the  turning 
over  of  a  new  leaf;  but  scarcely  had  he  opened  Chilcote's 
letters,  scarcely  had  he  taken  a  cursory  glance  at  the 
morning's  newspaper,  than  it  was  borne  in  upon  him 
that  not  only  a  new  leaf  but  a  whole  sheaf  of  new  leaves 
had  been  turned  in  his  prospects — by  a  hand  infinitely 
more  powerful  and  arbitrary  than  his  own.  He  realized 
within  the  space  of  a  few  moments  that  the  leisure  Eve 
might  have  claimed,  the  leisure  he  might  have  been 
tempted  to  devote  to  her,  was  no  longer  his  to  dispose 
of — being  already  demanded^  of  him  from  a  quarter  that 
allowed  of  no  refusal. 

For  the  first  rumbling  of  the  political  earthquake  that 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  135 

was  to  shake  the  country  made  itself  audible  beyond  de- 
nial on  that  morning  of  March  the  27th,  when  the  news 
spread  through  England  that,  in  view  of  the  disorganized 
state  of  the  Persian  army  and  the  Shah's  inability  to 
suppress  the  open  insurrection  of  the  border  tribes  in  the 
northeastern  districts  of  Meshed,  Russia,  with  a  great 
show  of  magnanimity,  had  come  to  the  rescue  by  dis- 
patching a  large  armed  force  from  her  military  station 
at  Merv  across  the  Persian  frontier  to  the  seat  of  the 
disturbance. 

To  many  hundreds  of  Englishmen  who  read  their 
papers  on  that  morning,  this  announcement  conveyed  but 
little.  That  there  is  such  a  country  as  Persia  we  all 
know;  that  English  interests  predominate  in  the  south 
and  Russian  interests  in  the  north  we  have  all  super- 
ficially understood  from  childhood;  but  in  this  knowl- 
edge, coupled  with  the  fact  that  Persia  is  comfortably 
far  away,  we  are  apt  to  rest  content.  It  is  only  to  the 
eyes  that  see  through  long-distance  glasses,  the  minds 
that  regard  the  present  as  nothing  more  nor  less  than  an 
inevitable  link  joining  the  future  with  the  past,  that  this 
distant  debatable  land  stands  out  in  its  true  political  sig- 
nificance. 

To  the  average  reader  of  news,  the  statement  of  Rus- 
sia's move  seemed  scarcely  more  important  than  had  the 
first  report  of  the  border  risings  in  January;  but  to  the 
men  who  had  watched  the  growth  of  the  disturbance,  it 
came  charged  with  meaning.  Through  the  entire  ranks 
of  the  Opposition,  from  Fraide  himself  downwards,  it 
caused  a  thrill  of  expectation — that  peculiar  prophetic 
sensation  that  every  politician  has  experienced  at  some 
moment  of  his  career. 

And  in  no  member  of  his  party  did  this  feeling  strike 
deeper  root  than  in  Loder.  Imbued  with  a  lifelong  in- 
terest in  the  Eastern  question,  specially  equipped  by  per- 
sonal knowledge  to  hold  and  proclaim  an  opinion  upon 
Persian  affairs,  he  read  the  portents  with  clear  insight. 
Seated  at  Chilcote's  table,  surrounded  by  Gtilcote's  let- 
ters and  papers,  he  forgot  the  breakfast  that  was  slowly 
growing  cold — forgot  the  interests  and  dangers,  personal 


136  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

or  pleasurable,  of  the  night  before,  while  his  mental  eyes 
persistently  conjured  up  the  map  of  Persia — traveling 
with  steady  deliberation  from  Merv  to  Meshed,  from 
Meshed  to  Herat,  from  Herat  to  the  Empire  of  India! 
For  it  was  not  the  fact  that  the  Hazaras  had  risen  against 
the  Shah  that  occupied  the  thinking  mind,  nor  was  it  the 
fact  that  Russian  and  not  Persian  troops  were  destined 
to  subdue  them,  but  the  deeply  important  consideration 
that  an  armed  Russian  force  had  crossed  the  frontier 
and  was  encamped  within  twenty  miles  of  Meshed — 
Meshed,  upon  which  covetous  Russian  eyes  have  rested 
since  the  days  of  Peter  the  Great. 

So  Loder's  thoughts  ran  as  he  read  and  re-read  the 
news  from  the  varying  political  standpoints,  and  so  they 
continued  to  run  when  some  hours  later  an  urgent  tele- 
phone message  from  "  The  St.  George's  Gazette  "  asked 
him  to  call  at  Lakeley's  office. 

The  message  was  interesting  as  well  as  imperative, 
and  he  made  an  instant  response.  The  thought  of  Lake- 
ley's  keen  eyes  and  shrewd  enthusiasms  always  pos- 
sessed a  strong  attraction  for  his  own  slower  tempera- 
ment ;  but  even  had  this  impetus  been  lacking,  the  knowl- 
edge that  at  "  The  St.  George's  "  offices,  if  anywhere, 
the  true  feelings  of  the  party  were  invariably  voiced 
would  have  drawn  him  without  hesitation. 

It  was  scarcely  twelve  o'clock  when  he  turned  the 
corner  of  the  tall  building,  but  already  the  keen  spirit 
that  Lakeley  everywhere  diffused,  was  making  itself  felt 
Loder  smiled  to  himself  as  his  eyes  fell  on  the  day's  pla- 
cards with  their  uncompromising  headings,  and  passed 
onward  from  the  string  of  gaily  painted  carts  drawn  up 
to  receive  their  first  consignment  of  the  paper  to  the 
troop  of  eager  newsboys  passing  in  and  out  of  the  big 
swing-doors  with  their  piled-up  bundles  of  the  early 
edition ;  and  with  a  renewed  thrill  of  anticipation  and 
energy,  he  passed  through  the  doorway  and  ran  up- 
stairs. 

Passing  unchallenged  through  the  long  corridor  that 
led  to  Lakeley's  office,  he  caught  a  fresh  impression  of 
action  and  vitality  from  the  click  of  the  tape-machines  in 


THE  MASQUERADERS. 

the  sub-editors'  room  and  a  glimpse  through  the  open 
door  of  the  sub-editors  themselves,  each  employed  upon 
some  special  task ;  then,  deprived  of  time  for  further 
observation,  he  found  himself  at  Lakeley's  door.  With- 
out waiting  to  knock,  as  he  had  felt  compelled  to  do  on 
the  one  or  two  previous  occasions  that  business  had 
brought  him  there,  he  immediately  turned  the  handle 
and  entered  the  room. 

Editors'  offices  differ  but  little  in  general  effect.  Lake- 
ley's  surroundings  were  rather  more  elaborate  than  is 
usual,  as  became  the  dignity  of  the  oldest  Tory  evening 
paper,  but  the  atmosphere  was  unmistakable.  As  Loder 
entered,  he  glanced  up  from  the  desk  at  which  he  was 
sitting,  but  instantly  returned  to  his  task  of  looking 
through  and  marking  the  pile  of  early  evening  editions 
that  were  spread  around  him.  His  coat  was  off  and 
hung  on  the  chair  behind  him,  and  he  pulled  vigorously 
on  a  long  cigar. 

"  Hallo !  That's  right ! "  he  said  laconically.  "  Make 
yourself  comfortable  half  a  second,  while  I  skim  '  The 
St.  Stephen's.' * 

His  salutation  pleased  Loder.  With  a  nod  of  acqui- 
escense  he  crossed  the  office  to  the  brisk  fire  that  burned 
in  the  grate. 

For  a  moment  or  two  Lakeley  worked  steadily,  occa- 
sionally breaking  the  quiet  by  an  unintelligible  remark 
or  a  vigorous  stroke  of  his  pencil.  At  last  he  dropped 
the  paper  with  a  gesture  of  satisfaction  and  leant  back  in 
his  chair. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "what  d'you  think  of  this?  How's 
this  for  a  complication  ?  " 

Loder  turned  around.  "  I  think,"  he  said  quietly, 
"  that  we  can't  overestimate  it." 

Lakeley  laughed  and  took  a  long  pull  at  his  cigar. 
"  And  we  mustn't  be  afraid  to  let  the  Sefborough  crowd 
know  it,  eh  ?  "  He  waved  his  hand  to  the  poster  of  the 
first  edition  that  hung  before  his  desk. 

Loder,  following  his  glance,  smiled. 

Lakeley  laughed  again.  "  They  might  have  seen  it 
all  along,  if  they'd  cared  to  deduce,"  he  said.  "  Did  they 


138  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

really  believe  that  Russia  was  going  to  sit  calmly  look- 
ing across  the  Heri  Rud  while  the  Shah  played  at  mo- 
bilizing? But  what  became  of  you  last  night?  We  had 
a  regular  prophesying  of  the  whole  business  at  Bram- 
fell's;  Fraide  looked  in  for  five  minutes.  I  went  on  with 
him  to  the  club  afterwards  and  was  there  when  the  news 
came  in.  'Twas  a  great  night !  " 

Loder's  face  lighted  up.  "  I  can  imagine  it,"  he  said 
with  an  unusual  touch  of  warmth. 

Lakeley  watched  him  intently  for  a  moment.  Then 
with  a  quick  action  he  leant  forward  and  rested  his  el- 
bows on  the  desk. 

"  It's  going  to  be  something  more  than  imagination 
for  you,  Chilcote,"  he  said  impressively.  "  It's  going  to 
be  solid  reality ! "  He  spoke  rapidly,  and  with  rather 
more  than  his  usual  shrewd  decisiveness ;  then  he  paused 
to  see  the  effect  of  his  announcement. 

Loder  was  still  studying  the  flaring  poster.  At  the 
other's  words  he  turned  sharply.  Something  in  Lake- 
ley's  voice,  something  in  his  manner,  arrested  him.  A 
tinge  of  color  crossed  his  face. 

"Reality?"  he  said.     "What  do  you  mean?" 

For  a  further  space  his  companion  watched  him ;  then 
with  a  rapid  movement  he  tilted  back  his  chair. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  half  to  himself.  "  Yes :  old  Fraide's 
instincts  are  never  far  out.  He's  quite  right.  You're 
the  man ! " 

Still  quietly,  but  with  a  strange  under-glow  of  excite- 
ment, Loder  left  the  fire,  and,  coming  forward,  took  a 
chair  at  Lakeley's  desk. 

"  Do  you  mind  telling  me  what  you're  driving  at  ?  " 
he  asked  in  his  old  laconic  voice. 

Lakeley  still  scrutinized  him  with  an  air  of  brisk  satis- 
faction; then  with  a  gesture  of  finality  he  tossed  his 
cigar  away. 

"  My  dear  chap,"  he  said,  "  there's  going  to  be  a  breach 
somewhere,  and  Fraide  says  you're  the  man  to  step  in 
and  fill  it !  Five  years  ago,  when  things  looked  lively  on 
the  Gulf,  and  the  Bundar  Abbas  business  came  to  light, 
you  did  some  promising  work,  and  a  reputation  like 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  139 

that  sticks  to  a  man,  even  when  he  turns  slacker!  I 
won't  deny  that  you've  slacked  abominably,"  he  added  as 
Loder  made  an  uneasy  movement,  "  but  slacking  has  dif- 
ferent effects.  Some  men  run  to  seed;  others  mature. 
I  had  almost  put  you  down  on  the  black-list,  but  I've 
altered  my  mind  in  the  last  couple  of  months." 

Again  Loder  stirred  in  his  seat.  A  host  of  emotions 
were  stirring  in  his  mind.  Every  word  wrung  from 
Lakeley  was  another  stimulus  to  pride — another  subtle 
tribute  to  the  curious  force  of  personality. 

"Well?"  he  said.    "Well?" 

Lakeley  smiled.  "  We  all  know  that  Sefborough's 
Ministry  is — well,  top-heavy  " — he  said.  "  Sefborough 
is  building  his  card-house  just  a  story  too  high.  It's  a 
toss-up  what'll  upset  the  balance.  It  might  be  the  Army, 
of  course — or  it  might  be  Education.  But  it  might 
quite  as  well  be  a  matter  of  foreign  policy ! " 

They  looked  at  each  other  in  comprehensive  silence. 

"  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that  it's  not  the  question 
of  whether  Russia  comes  into  Persia — but  the  question 
of  whether  Russia  goes  out  of  Persia,  when  these  Haza- 
ras  are  subdued.  I'll  lay  you  what  you  like,  Chilcote, 
that  within  one  week  we  hear  that  the  risings  are  sup- 
pressed, but  that  Russia,  instead  of  retiring,  has  cud- 
vanccd  those  tempting  twenty  miles  and  comfortably  en- 
sconced herself  at  Meshed — much  as  she  dropped  down 
upon  Ashurada  sixty  years  ago." 

Lakeley's  nervous  energetic  figure  was  braced,  his 
light-blue  eyes  brightened  by  the  intensity  of  his  interest. 

"  If  this  news  comes  before  the  Easter  recess,"  he  went 
on,  "  the  first  nail  can  be  hammered  in  on  the  motion 
for  adjournment.  And  if  the  right  man  does  it  in  the 
right  way,  I'll  lay  my  life  'twill  be  a  nail  in  Sefborough's 
coffin." 

Loder  sat  very  still.  Overwhelming  possibilities  had 
suddenly  opened  before  him.  In  a  moment  the  unreality 
of  the  past  months  had  become  real ;  a  tangible  justifica- 
tion of  himself  and  his  imposture  was  suddenly  made 
possible.  In  the  stress  of  understanding,  he  too  leant 


140  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

forward  and,  resting  his  elbows  on  the  desk,  took  his 
face  between  his  hands. 

For  a  space  Lakeley  made  no  remark.  To  him,  man 
and  man's  moods  came  second  in  interest  to  his  paper 
and  his  party  politics.  That  Chilcote  should  be  conscious 
of  the  glories  he  had  opened  up  seemed  only  natural — • 
that  he  should  show  that  consciousness  in  a  becoming 
gravity  only  right.  For  some  seconds  he  made  no  at- 
tempt to  disturb  Loder ;  but  at  last  his  own  irrepressible 
activity  made  a  longer  silence  unendurable.  He  caught 
up  his  pencil  and  tapped  on  the  desk. 

"  Chilcote,"  he  said  quickly,  and  with  a  gleam  of  sud- 
den anxiety,  "  you're  not  by  any  chance  doubtful  of 
yourself  ?  " 

At  sound  of  his  voice,  Loder  lifted  his  face;  it  was 
pale  again,  but  the  energy  and  the  resolution  that  had 
come  into  it  when  Lakeley  first  spoke  were  still  to  be 
seen. 

"  No,  Lakeley,"  he  said  very  slowly,  "  it's  not  the  sort 
of  moment  in  which  a  man  doubts  himself." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  Loder  was  freed  from  one 
responsibility  to  undertake  another.  From  the  morning 
of  March  the  27th,  when  Lakeley  had  expounded  his 
political  programme  in  the  offices  of  "  The  St.  George's 
Gazette,"  to  the  afternoon  of  April  the  ist  he  found 
himself  a  central  figure  in  the  whirlpool  of  activity  that 
formed  itself  in  Conservative  circles. 

With  the  acumen  for  which  he  was  noted,  Lakeley  had 
touched  the  keystone  of  the  situation  on  that  morning; 
and  succeeding  events — each  fraught  with  its  own  im- 
portance— had  but  established  the  precision  of  his  fore- 
cast. 

Minutely  watchful  of  Russia's  attitude,  Fraide  quietly 
organized  his  forces  and  strengthened  his  position  with 
a  statesman-like  grasp  of  opportunity;  and  to  Loder  the 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  141 

attributes  displayed  by  his  leader  during  those  trying 
days,  formed  an  endless  and  absorbing  study.  Setting 
the  thought  of  Chilcote  aside,  ignoring  his  own  position 
and  the  risks  he  daily  ran,  he  fully  yielded  to  the  glamour 
of  the  moment ;  and  in  the  first  freedom  of  a  loose  rein 
gave  unreservedly  all  that  he  possessed  of  activity,  ca- 
pacity and  determination  to  the  cause  that  claimed  him. 

Singularly  privileged  in  a  constant  personal  contact 
with  Fraide,  he  learned  many  valuable  lessons  of  con- 
trol and  organization  in  those  five  vital  days  during 
which  the  tactics  of  a  whole  party  hung  upon  one  item 
of  news  from  a  country  thousands  of  miles  away.  For 
should  Russia  subdue  the  insurgent  Hazaras  and,  laden 
with  the  honors  of  the  peacemaker,  retire  across  the 
frontier,  then  the  political  arena  would  remain  undis- 
turbed ;  but  should  the  all-important  movement  predicted 
by  Lakeley  become  an  accepted  fact  before  Parliament 
rose  for  the  Easter  recess,  then  the  first  blow  in  the  fight 
that  would  rage  during  the  succeeding  session  must  in- 
evitably be  struck.  In  the  meantime  it  was  the  difficult 
position  of  the  leader  of  the  Opposition  to  wait  and 
watch  and  yet  preserve  his  dignity. 

It  was  early  in  the  afternoon  of  March  the  3ist  that 
Loder,  in  response  to  a  long-standing  invitation,  lunched 
quietly  with  the  Fraides.  Being  delayed  by  some  com- 
munications from  Wark,  he  was  a  few  minutes  late  in 
keeping  his  appointment ;  and,  on  being  shown  into  the 
drawing-room,  he  found  the  little  group  of  three  that 
was  to  make  up  the  party  already  assembled — Fraide, 
Lady  Sarah,  and  Eve.  As  he  entered  the  room  they 
ceased  to  speak,  and  all  three  turned  in  his  direction. 

In  the  first  moment  he  had  a  vague  impression  of  re- 
sponding suitably  to  Lady  Sarah's  cordial  greeting;  but 
he  knew  that  immediately  and  unconsciously  his  eyes 
turned  to  Eve  and  that  a  quick  sense  of  surprise  and  sat- 
isfaction passed  through  him  at  sight  of  her.  For  an  in- 
stant he  wondered  how  she  would  mark  his  avoidance 
of  her  since  their  last  eventful  interview,  then  instantly 
he  blamed  himself  for  the  passing  doubt.  For  before 
all  things,  he  knew  her  to  be  a  woman  of  the  world. 


142  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

He  took  Fraide's  outstretched  hand,  and  again  he 
looked  towards  Eve,  waiting  for  her  first  words. 

She  met  his  glance,  but  said  nothing.  Instead  of 
speaking,  she  smiled  at  him — a  smile  that  was  far  more 
reassuring  than  any  speech — a  smile  that  in  a  single 
second  conveyed  forgiveness,  approbation,  and  a  warm, 
almost  tender,  sense  of  sympathy  and  comprehension. 
The  remembrance  of  that  smile  stayed  with  him  long 
after  they  were  seated  at  table;  and  far  into  the  future 
the  remembrance  of  the  lunch  itself,  with  its  pleasant 
private  sense  of  satisfaction,  was  destined  to  return  to 
him  in  retrospective  moments.  The  delightful  atmos- 
phere of  the  Fraides'  home-life  had  always  been  a  won- 
der and  an  enigma  to  him;  but  on  this  day  he  seemed 
to  grasp  its  meaning  by  a  new  light,  as  he  watched  Eve 
soften  under  its  influence  and  felt  himself  drawn  imper- 
ceptibly from  the  position  of  a  speculative  outsider  to 
that  of  an  intimate.  It  was  a  fresh  side  to  the  complex 
fascinating  life  of  which  his  chief  was  the  master  spirit. 

These  reflections  had  grown  agreeably  familiar  to  his 
mind;  the  talk,  momentarily  diverted  into  social  chan- 
nels, was  quietly  drifting  back  to  the  inevitable  question 
of  the  "  situation  "  that,  in  private  moments,  was  never 
far  from  their  lips,  when  the  event  that  was  to  mark 
and  separate  that  day  from  those  that  had  preceded  it 
was  unceremoniously  thrust  upon  them. 

Without  announcement  or  apology,  the  door  was  sud- 
denly flung  open  and  Lakeley  entered  the  room. 

His  face  was  brimming  with  excitement  and  his  eyes 
flashed.  In  the  first  haste  of  the  entry  he  failed  to  see 
that  there  were  ladies  in  the  room,  and  crossing  instantly 
to  Fraide,  laid  an  open  telegram  before  him.  "  This  is 
official,  sir ! "  he  said.  Then  he  glanced  around  the 
table. 

"  Lady  Sarah !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Can  you  forgive 
me?  But  I'd  have  given  a  hundred  pounds  to  be  the 
first  with  this !  "  He  looked  back  at  Fraide. 

Lady  Sarah  rose  and  held  out  her  hands.  "  Mr.  Lake- 
ley,"  she  said,  "  I  more  than  understand !  "  There  was 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  143 

a  thrill  in  her  warm  cordial  voice,  and  her  eyes  also 
turned  towards  her  husband. 

Of  the  whole  party  Fraide  alone  was  perfectly  calm. 
He  sat  very  still,  his  small  thin  figure  erect  and  dignified, 
as  his  eyes  scanned  the  message  that  meant  so  much. 

Eve,  who  had  sprung  from  her  seat  and  passed  around 
the  table  at  sound  of  Lakeley's  news,  was  leaning  over 
his  shoulder,  reading  the  telegram  with  him.  At  the  last 
word  she  lifted  her  head,  her  face  flushed  with  excite- 
ment. 

"  How  splendid  it  must  be  to  be  a  man ! "  she  ex- 
claimed. And  without  premeditation  her  eyes  and  Loder's 
met. 


In  this  manner  came  the  news  from  Persia,  and  with 
it  Loder's  definite  call.  In  the  momentary  stress  of  ac- 
tion it  was  impossible  that  any  thought  of  Chilcote  could 
obtrude  itself.  Events  had  followed  each  other  too  rap- 
idly, decisive  action  had  been  too  much  thrust  upon  him 
to  allow  hesitation;  and  it  was  in  this  spirit,  under  this 
vigorous  pressure,  that  he  made  his  attack  upon  the 
Government  on  the  day  that  followed  Fraide's  luncheon 
party. 

That  indefinable  attentiveness,  that  alert  sensation  of 
impending  storm,  that  is  so  strong  an  index  of  the  par- 
liamentary atmosphere,  was  very  keen  on  that  mem- 
orable 1st  of  April.  It  was  obvious  in  the  crowded 
benches  on  both  sides  of  the  House ;  in  the  oneness  of 
purpose  that  insensibly  made  itself  felt  through  the 
ranks  of  the  Opposition  and  found  definite  expression  in 
Fraide's  stiff  figure  and  tightly  shut  lips ;  in  the  unmis- 
takable uneasiness  that  lay  upon  the  Ministerial  benches. 

But  notwithstanding  these  indications  of  battle,  the 
early  portion  of  the  proceedings  was  unmarked  by  ex- 
citement, being  tinged  with  the  purposeless  lack  of  vi- 
tality that  had  of  late  marked  all  affairs  of  the  Sef- 
borough  Ministry;  and  it  was  not  until  the  adjournment 
of  the  House  for  the  Easter  recess  had  at  last  been 
moved,  that  the  spirit  of  activity  hovering  in  the  air  de- 


144  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

scended  and  galvanized  the  assembly  into  life.  It  was 
then,  amid  a  stir  of  interest,  that  Loder  slowly  rose. 

Many  curious  incidents  have  marked  the  speech-mak- 
ing annals  of  the  House  of  Commons,  but  it  is  doubtful 
whether  it  has  ever  been  the  lot  of  a  member  to  hear 
his  own  voice  raised  for  the  first  time  on  a  subject  of 
vital  interest  to  his  party — having  been  denied  all  initial 
assistance  of  minor  questions  asked  or  unimportant 
amendments  proposed.  Of  all  those  gathered  together 
in  the  great  building  on  that  day  only  one  man  appre- 
ciated the  difficulty  of  Loder's  position — and  that  man 
was  Loder  himself. 

He  rose  slowly  and  stood  silent  for  a  couple  of  sec- 
onds— his  body  braced,  his  fingers  touching  the  sheaf 
of  notes  that  lay  in  front  of  him.  To  the  waiting  house 
the  silence  was  effective.  It  might  mean  over-assurance 
or  it  might  mean  a  failure  of  nerve  at  a  critical  moment. 
Either  possibility  had  a  tinge  of  piquancy.  Moved  by 
the  same  impulse,  fifty  pairs  of  eyes  turned  upon  him 
with  new  interest;  but  up  in  the  Ladies'  Gallery  Eve 
clasped  her  hands  in  sudden  apprehension ;  and  Fraide, 
sitting  stiffly  in  his  seat,  turned  and  shot  one  swift 
glance  at  the  man  on  whom,  against  prudence  and  prece- 
dent, he  had  pinned  his  faith.  The  glance  was  swift 
but  very  searching,  and,  with  a  characteristic  movement 
of  his  wiry  shoulders,  he  resumed  his  position  and  with 
it  his  usual  grave  attentive  attitude.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment Loder  lifted  his  head  and  began  to  speak. 

Here  at  the  outset  his  inexperience  met  him.  His 
voice,  pitched  too  low,  only  reached  those  directly  near 
him.  It  was  a  moment  of  great  strain.  Eve,  listening 
intently,  drew  a  long  breath  of  suspense  and  let  her 
fingers  drop  apart.  The  skeptical  watchful  eyes  that 
faced  him  line  upon  line  seemed  to  flash  and  brighten 
with  critical  interest.  Only  Fraide  made  no  change  of 
expression :  he  sat  placid,  serious,  attentive — with  the 
shadow  of  a  smile  behind  his  eyes. 

Again  Loder  paused,  but  this  time  the  pause  was 
shorter.  The  ordeal  he  had  dreaded  and  waited  for  was 
past,  and  he  saw  his  way  clearly.  With  the  old  move- 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  H5 

ment  of  the  shoulders,  he  straightened  himself  and  once 
more  began  to  speak.  This  time  his  voice  rang  quietly 
true  and  commanding  across  the  floor  of  the  House. 

No  first  step  can  be  really  great, — it  must  of  necessity 
possess  more  of  prophecy  than  of  achievement — never- 
theless it  is  by  the  first  step  that  a  man  marks  the  value, 
not  only  of  his  cause,  but  of  himself.  Following  broadly 
on  the  lines  that  tradition  has  laid  down  for  the  Con- 
servative orator,  Loder  disguised  rather  than  displayed 
the  vein  of  strong  persuasive  eloquence  that  was  his 
natural  gift.  The  occasion  that  might  possibly  justify 
such  a  display  of  individuality  might  lie  with  the  future, 
but  it  had  no  application  to  the  present.  For  the  mo- 
ment, his  duty  was  to  voice  his  party  sentiments  with 
as  much  lucidity,  as  much  logic,  and  as  much  calm  con- 
viction as  lay  within  his  capacity. 

Standing  quietly  in  Chilcote's  place,  he  was  conscious 
with  a  deep  sense  of  gravity  of  the  peculiarity  of  his  posi- 
tion; and  perhaps  it  was  this  unconscious  and  unstudied 
seriousness  that  lent  him  the  tone  of  weight  and  judg- 
ment so  essential  to  the  cause  he  had  in  hand.  It  has 
always  been  difficult  to  arouse  the  interest  of  the  House 
on  matters  of  British  policy  in  Persia.  Once  aroused, 
it  may,  it  is  true,  reach  fever-heat  with  remarkable  ra- 
pidity ;  but  the  initial  stages  offer  that  worst  danger  to 
the  man  who  would  introduce  the  subject — the  dread  of 
an  apathetic  audience.  But  from  this  consideration 
Loder,  by  his  sharp  consciousness  of  personal  difficulties, 
was  given  immunity. 

Pitching  his  voice  in  that  calmly  masterful  tone  that 
beyond  all  others  compels  attention,  he  took  up  his  sub- 
ject, treating  it  with  dispassionate  force.  With  great 
skill  he  touched  on  the  steady  southward  advance  of 
Russia  into  Persian  territory  from  the  early  days  when, 
by  a  curious  irony  of  fate,  Russian  and  British  enter- 
prise combined  to  make  entry  into  the  country  under 
the  sanction  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Moscovy,  up  to  the 
present  hour  when  this  great  power  of  Russia — long 
since  alienated  by  interests  and  desires  from  her  former 
co-operator — had  taken  a  step  which,  in  the  eyes  of  every 


146  JOHN  CH1LCOTE;  OR, 

thinking  man,  must  possess  a  deep  significance.  With 
quiet  persistence  he  pointed  out  the  peculiar  position  of 
Meshed,  in  the  distant  province  of  Khorasan ;  its  vast 
distance  from  the  Persian  Gulf,  round  which  British 
power  and  influence  center,  and  the  consequently  alarm- 
ing position  of  hundreds  of  traders  who,  in  the  security 
of  British  sovereignty,  are  fighting  their  way  upward 
from  India,  from  Afghanistan,  even  from  England  her- 
self. 

Following  up"  his  point,  he  dilated  on  those  subjects 
of  the  British  Crown  who,  cut  off  from  adequate  assis- 
tance, can  only  turn  in  personal  or  commercial  peril  to 
the  protective  power  of  the  nearest  consulate.  Then, 
quietly  demanding  the  attention  of  his  hearers,  he  mar- 
shalled -fact  upon  fact  to  demonstrate  the  isolation  and 
inadequacy  of  a  consulate  so  situated;  the  all  but  arbi- 
trary power  of  Russia,  who  in  her  new  occupation  of 
Meshed  had  only  two  considerations  to  withhold  her 
from  open  aggression.  The  knowledge  of  England  as  a 
very  considerable  but  a  very  distant  power;  the  knowl- 
edge of  Persia  as  an  imminent  but  wholly  impotent  fac- 
tor in  the  case! 

Having  stated  his  opinions,  he  reverted  to  the  motive 
of  his  speech — his  desire  to  put  forward  a  strong  pro- 
test against  the  adjournment  of  the  House  without  an 
assurance  from  the  Government  that  immediate  meas- 
ures would  be  taken  to  safeguard  British  interest  in 
Meshed  and  throughout  the  province  of  Khorasan. 


The  immediate  outcome  of  Loder's  speech  was  all  that 
his  party  had  desired.  The  effect  on  the  House  had 
been  marked;  and  when — no  satisfactory  response  com- 
ing to  his  demand — he  had  in  still  more  resolute  and  in- 
sistent terms  called  for  a  division  on  the  motion  for  ad- 
journment, the  result  had  been  an  appreciable  fall  in 
the  Government  majority. 

To  Loder  himself  the  realization  that  he  had  at  last — 
even  in  part — vindicated  and  justified  himself  by  indi- 
vidual action  had  a  peculiar  effect.  His  position  had 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  147 

been  altered  in  one  remarkable  particular.  Before  this 
day  he  alone  had  known  himself  to  be  strong;  now  the 
knowledge  was  shared  by  others,  and  he  was  human 
enough  to  be  susceptible  to  the  change. 

The  first  poignant  appreciation  of  it  came  immediately 
after  the  excitement  of  the  division,  when  Fraide,  sing- 
ling him  out,  took  his  arm  and  pressed  it  affectionately. 

"  My  dear  Chilcote,"  he  said,  "  we  are  all  proud  of 
you ! "  Then,  looking  up  into  his  face,  he  added  in  a 
graver  tone,  "  But  always  keep  your  mind  upon  the  fu- 
ture; never  be  blinded  by  the  present — however  bright 
it  seems." 

At  the  touch  of  his  hand,  at  the  spontaneous  approval 
of  his  first  words,  Loder's  pride  thrilled,  and  in  a  vehe- 
ment rush  of  ambition  his  senses  answered  to  the  praise. 
Then,  as  Fraide  in  all  unconsciousness  added  his  second 
sentence,  the  hot  glow  of  feeling  suddenly  chilled.  In 
a  sweep  of  intuitive  reaction  the  meaning  and  the  danger 
of  his  falsely  real  position  extinguished  his  excitement 
and  turned  his  triumph  cold.  With  an  involuntary  gest- 
ure he  withdrew  his  arm. 

"  You're  very  good,  sir ! "  he  said.  "  And  you're 
very  right.  We  never  should  forget  that  there  is — a  fu- 
ture." 

The  old  man  glanced  up,  surprised  by  the  tone. 

"  Quite  so,  Chilcote !  "  he  said  kindly.  "  But  we  only 
advise  those  in  whom  we  really  believe  to  look  towards 
it.  Shall  we  find  my  wife?  I  know  she  will  want  to 
bear  you  home  with  us." 

But  Loder's  joy  in  himself  and  his  achievement  had 
dropped  from  him.  He  shrank  suddenly  from  Lady 
Sarah's  congratulations,  from  Eve's  warm  silent  appro- 
bation. 

"  Thanks,  sir ! "  he  said,  "  but  I  don't  feel  fit  for  so- 
ciety. A  touch  of  my — nerves,  I  suppose."  He  laughed 
shortly.  "  But  do  you  mind  saying  to  Eve  that  I  hope 
I  have — satisfied  her?"  He  added  this  as  if  in  half- 
reluctant  afterthought.  Then,  with  a  short  pressure  of 
Fraide's  hand,  he  turned,  evading  the  many  groups  that 
waited  to  claim  him,  and  passed  out  of  the  House  alone. 


Hi  JOHN  CHILGOTE;  OR, 

Hailing  a  cab,  he  drove  to  Grosvenor  Square.  All 
the  exaltation  of  an  hour  ago  had  turned  to  ashes.  His 
excitement  had  found  its  culmination  in  a  sense  of  futil- 
ity and  premonition. 

He  met  no  one  in  the  hall  or  on  the  stairs  of  Chilcote's 
house,  and  on  entering  the  study  he  found  that  also  de- 
serted. Greening  had  been  amongst  the  most  absorbed 
of  those  who  had  listened  to  his  speech.  Passing  at  once 
into  the  room,  he  crossed  as  if  by  instinct  to  the  desk 
and  there  halted.  On  the  top  of  some  unopened  letters 
lay  the  significant  yellow  envelope  of  a  telegram — the 
telegram  that  in  an  unformed,  subconscious  way  had 
sprung  to  his  expectation  on  the  moment  of  Fraide's 
congratulation. 

Very  quietly  he  picked  it  up,  opened,  read  it  and,  with 
the  automatic  caution  that  had  become  habitual  to  him, 
carried  it  across  the  room  and  dropped  it  into  the  fire. 
This  done,  he  returned  to  the  desk,  glanced  through  the 
letters  that  awaited  Chilcote  and,  scribbling  the  neces- 
sary notes  upon  their  margins,  left  them  in  readiness  for 
Greening.  Then,  moving  with  the  same  quiet  suppres- 
sion, he  passed  from  the  room,  down  the  stairs  and  out 
into  the  street  by  the  way  he  had  come. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

On  the  fifth  day  after  the  momentous  first  of  April 
on  which  he  had  recalled  Loder  and  resumed  his  own 
life,  Chilcote  left  his  house  and  walked  towards  Bond 
Street.  Though  the  morning  was  clear  and  the  air 
almost  warm  for  the  time  of  year,  he  was  wearing  a 
heavy  overcoat,  a  muffler,  and  a  pair  of  doeskin  gloves. 
As  he  moved  forward,  he  kept  close  to  the  house-fronts 
to  avoid  the  sun  that  was  everywhere  stirring  the  win- 
terbound  town,  like  a  suffusion  of  young  blood  in  old 
veins.  He  avoided  the  warmth  because,  in  this  instance, 
warmth  meant  light;  but  as  he  walked  he  shivered 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  149 

slightly  from  time  to  time  with  the  haunting,  permeat- 
ing cold  that  of  late  had  become  his  persistent  shadow. 

He  was  ill  at  ease  as  he  hurried  forward.  With  each 
succeeding  day  of  the  old  life  the  new  annoyances,  the 
new  obligations,  became  more  hampering.  Before  his 
compact  with  Loder,  this  old  life  had  been  a  net  about 
his  feet ;  now  the  meshes  seemed  to  have  narrowed — the 
net  itself  to  have  spread  until  it  smothered  his  whole 
being.  His  own  household,  his  own  rooms  even,  offered 
no  sanctuary.  The  presence  of  another  personality 
tinged  the  atmosphere.  It  was  preposterous,  but  it  was 
undeniable.  The  lay  figure  that  he  had  set  in  his  place 
had  proved  to  be  flesh  and  blood,  had  usurped  his  life, 
his  position,  his  very  personality,  by  sheer  right  of 
strength.  As  he  walked  along  Bond  Street  in  the  first 
sunshine  of  the  year,  jostled  by  the  well-dressed  crowd, 
he  felt  a  pariah. 

He  revolted  at  the  new  order  of  things,  but  the  revolt 
was  a  silent  one.  The  iron  of  expediency  had  entered 
into  his  soul;  he  dared  not  jeopardize  Loder's  position 
— because  he  dared  not  dispense  with  Loder.  The  door 
that  guarded  his  vice  drew  him  more  resistlessly  with 
every  indulgence;  and  Loder's  was  the  voice  that  called 
the  "  Open  Sesame !  " 

He  walked  on  aimlessly.  He  had  been  but  five  days 
at  home,  and  already  the  quiet,  grass-grown  court  of 
Clifford's  Inn,  the  bare  staircase,  the  comfortless  privacy 
of  Loder's  rooms  seemed  a  haven  of  refuge.  The 
speed  with  which  this  hunger  had  returned  frightened 
him.  And  now,  as  he  moved  onward,  the  irrepressible 
consciousness  of  it  came  back,  causing  him  inconse- 
quently  to  hasten  his  steps. 

He  walked  forward  rapidly  and  without  encountering 
a  check.  Then  suddenly  the  spell  was  broken.  From 
the  slowly-moving,  brilliantly-dressed  throng  of  people 
some  one  called  him  by  name,  and  turning,  he  saw  Lil- 
lian Astrupp. 

She  was  stepping  from  the  door  of  a  jeweler's ;  and  as 
he  turned  she  paused,  holding  out  her  hand. 

"  The  very  person  I  would  have  wished  to  see !  "  she 


150  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

exclaimed.  "  Where  have  you  been  hiding  yourself  these 
hundred  years?  I've  heard  of  nobody  but  you,  since 
you've  turned  politician  and  ceased  to  be  a  mere  Mem- 
ber of  Parliament ! "  She  laughed  softly.  The  laugh 
suited  the  light  spring  air,  as  she  herself  suited  the  pleas- 
ant, superficial  scene. 

He  took  her  hand  and  held  it,  while  his  eyes  traveled 
from  her  delicate  face  to  her  pale  cloth  gown,  from  her 
soft  furs  to  the  bunch  of  roses  fastened  in  her  muff. 
The  sight  of  her  was  a  curious  relief.  Her  cool  slim 
ringers  were  so  casual,  yet  so  clinging  in  their  pressure, 
her  voice  and  her  presence  were  so  redolent  of  easy,  arti- 
ficial things. 

"  How  well  you  look ! "  he  said  involuntarily. 

Again  she  laughed.  "  That's  my  prerogative !  But  I 
was  serious  in  being  glad  to  see  you.  Sarcastic  people 
are  always  so  intuitive.  I'm  looking  for  some  one  with 
intuition." 

Chilcote  glanced  up.  "  Extravagant  again  ?  "  he  said 
drily. 

She  smiled  sweetly.  "  Jack ! "  she  murmured  with 
slow  reproach. 

He  laughed.  "  I  understand.  You've  changed  your 
Minister  of  Finance.  I'm  wanted  in  some  other  direc- 
tion." 

She  evaded  his  insinuation  with  ready  ease. 

"  You  are  always  wanted,"  she  said  softly. 

The  words  seemed  to  rouse  him  again  to  the  shadowy 
self-distrust  that  her  presence  had  lifted. 

"  It's — it's  delightful  to  meet  you  like  this,"  he  be- 
gan, "  and  I  wish  the  meeting  wasn't  momentary.  But 
I'm — I'm  rather  pressed  for  time.  You  must  let  me 
come  round  one  afternoon — or  evening,  when  you're 
alone."  He  fumbled  for  a  moment  with  the  collar  of 
his  coat,  and  glanced  furtively  upwards  towards  Ox- 
ford Street. 

But  again  Lillian  smiled — this  time  to  herself.  If 
she  understood  anything  on  earth,  it  was  Chilcote  and 
his  moods. 

"  If  one  may  be  careless  of  anything,  Jack,"  she  said 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  151 

lightly,  "  surely  it's  of  time.  I  can  imagine  being 
pressed  for  anything  else  in  the  world.  If  it's  an  ap- 
pointment you're  worrying  about,  a  motor  goes  ever  so 
much  faster  than  a  cab."  She  looked  at  him  tentatively 
— her  head  slightly  on  one  side,  her  muff  raised  till  the 
roses  and  the  soft  fur  touched  her  cheek. 

She  looked  very  charming  and  very  persuasive  as  he 
glanced  back  at  her.  Again  she  seemed  to  suggest  a  res- 
pite— something  graceful  and  subtle  in  a  world  of  op- 
pressive obligations.  His  eyes  strayed  from  her  figure 
to  the  smart  open  motor  drawn  up  beside  the  curb. 

She  saw  the  glance.  "  Ever  so  much  quicker,"  she 
insinuated.  And  smiling  again,  she  stepped  forward 
from  the  door  of  the  shop.  After  a  second's  indecision, 
Chilcote  followed  her. 

The  waiting  motor-car  had  three  seats, — one  in  front 
for  the  chauffeur,  two  vis-d-vis,  at  the  back,  offering 
pleasant  possibilities  of  a  tete-a-tete. 

"  The  Park — and  drive  slowly !  "  Lillian  ordered  as 
she  stepped  into  the  car,  motioning  Chilcote  to  the  seat 
opposite  her  own. 

They  moved  up  Bond  Street  smoothly  and  rapidly. 
Lillian  was  absorbed  in  the  passing  traffic  until  the 
Marble  Arch  was  reached ;  then,  as  they  glided  through 
the  big  gates,  she  looked  across  at  her  companion.  He 
had  turned  up  the  collar  of  his  coat,  though  the  wind 
was  scarcely  perceptible,  and  had  buried  himself  in  it  to 
the  ears. 

"  It  is  extraordinary ! "  she  exclaimed  suddenly,  as 
her  eyes  rested  on  his  face.  It  was  seldom  that  she  felt 
drawn  to  exclamation.  She  was  usually  too  indolent 
to  show  surprise.  But  now  the  feeling  was  called  forth 
before  she  was  aware. 

Chilcote  looked  up.  "What's  extraordinary?"  he 
said  sensitively. 

She  leant  forward  for  an  instant  and  touched  his 
hand. 

"  Bear !  "  she  said  teasingly.  "  Did  I  rub  your  fur 
the  wrong  way?"  Then,  seeing  his  expression,  she 
altered  her  tone — 


152  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  I'll  explain.  It  was  the  same  thing  that  struck  me 
the  night  of  Blanche's  party — when  you  looked  at  me 
over  Leonard  Kaine's  head.  You  remember  ? "  She 
looked  away  from  him  across  the  Park  to  where  the 
grass  was  already  showing  greener. 

Chilcote  felt  ill  at  ease.  Again  he  put  his  hand  to  his 
coat-collar. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  he  said  hastily,  "  yes."  He  wished  now 
that  he  had  questioned  Loder  more  closely  on  the  pro- 
ceedings of  that  party.  It  seemed  to  him,  on  looking 
back,  that  Loder  had  mentioned  nothing  on  the  day  of 
their  last  exchange  save  the  political  complications  that 
absorbed  his  mind. 

"  I  couldn't  explain  then,"  Lillian  went  on ;  "I 
couldn't  explain  before  a  crowd  of  people  that  it  wasn't 
your  dark  head  showing  over  Leonard's  red  one  that 
surprised  me,  but  the  most  wonderful,  the  most  extraor- 
dinary likeness "  She  paused. 

The  car  was  moving  faster ;  there  was  a  delight  in  the 
easy  motion  through  the  fresh  early  air.  But  Chilcote's 
uneasiness  had  been  aroused ;  he  no  longer  felt  soothed. 

"  What  likeness  ?  "  he  asked  sharply. 

She  turned  to  him  easily.  "  Oh,  a  likeness  I  have 
noticed  before,"  she  said.  "  A  likeness  that  always 
seemed  strange,  but  that  suddenly  became  incredible  at 
Blanche's  party." 

He  moved  quickly. 

"  Likenesses  are  an  illusion,"  he  said,  "  a  mere  fiction 
of  the  brain ! "  His  manner  was  short ;  his  annoyance 
seemingly  out  of  all  proportion  to  its  cause.  Lillian 
looked  at  him  afresh  in  slightly  interested  surprise. 

"  Yet,  not  so  very  long  ago,  you  yourself — "  she 
began. 

"  Nonsense !  I've  always  denied  likenesses.  Such 
things  don't  really  exist.  Likeness-seeing  is  purely  an 
individual  matter — a  preconception."  He  spoke  fast; 
he  was  uneasy  under  the  cool  scrutiny  of  her  green 
eyes.  Then,  with  a  sharp  attempt  at  self-control  and  re- 
assurance, he  altered  his  voice. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  153 

"  After  all,  we're  being  very  stupid !  "  he  exclaimed. 
"  We're  worrying  over  something  that  doesn't  exist." 

Lillian  was  still  lazily  interested.  To  her  own  belief, 
she  had  seen  Chilcote  last  on  the  night  of  her  sister's 
reception.  Then,  she  had  been  too  preoccupied  to  notice 
either  his  manner  or  his  health,  though  superficially  it 
had  lingered  in  her  mind  that  he  had  seemed  unusually 
reliant,  unusually  well  on  that  night.  A  remembrance 
of  the  impression  came  to  her  now  as  she  studied  his 
face,  upon  which  imperceptibly  and  yet  relentlessly  his 
vice  was  setting  its  mark — in  a  dull  restlessness  of  eye, 
an  unhealthy  sallowness  of  skin. 

Some  shred  of  her  thought,  some  suggestion  of  the 
comparison  running  through  her  mind,  must  have 
shown  in  her  face,  for  Chilcote  altered  his  position  with 
a  touch  of  uneasiness.  He  glanced  away  across  the  long 
sweep  of  tan-covered  drive  stretching  between  the  trees ; 
then  he  glanced  furtively  back. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said  quickly,  "  you  wanted  me  for 
something? "  The  memory  of  her  earlier  suggestion 
came  back  as  a  sudden  boon. 

She  lifted  her  muff  again,  and  smelt  her  roses  thought- 
fully. 

"  Oh,  it  was  nothing,  really,"  she  said.  "  You  sarcas- 
tic people  give  very  shrewd  suggestions  sometimes,  and 
I've  been  rather  wanting  a  suggestion  on  an — an  adven- 
ture that  I've  had."  She  looked  down  at  her  flowers 
with  a  charmingly  attentive  air. 

But  Chilcote's  restlessness  had  increased.  Looking 
up,  she  suddenly  caught  his  expression,  and  her  own 
face  changed. 

"  Dear  Jack !  "  she  said  softly,  "  what  a  bore  I  am ! 
Let's  forget  tedious  things — and  enjoy  ourselves."  She 
leant  towards  him  caressingly,  with  an  air  of  concern 
and  reproach. 

It  was  not  without  effect.  Her  soothing  voice,  her 
smile,  her  almost  affectionate  gesture,  each  carried 
weight.  With  a  swift  return  of  assurance  he  responded 
to  her  tone. 

"Right!"   he   said.     "Right!    We   will   enjoy    our- 


154  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

selves !  "  He  laughed  quickly,  and  again  with  a  con- 
scious movement  he  lifted  his  hand  to  his  muffler. 

"  And  we'll  postpone  the  advice  ?  "  Lillian  laughed 
too. 

"  Yes.  Right !  We'll  postpone  it."  The  words  pleased 
him  and  he  caught  at  it.  "  We  won't  bother  about  it 
now,  but  we  won't  shelve  it  altogether.  We'll  postpone 
it." 

"  Exactly."  She  settled  herself  more  comfortably. 
"  You'll  dine  with  me  one  night — and  we  can  talk  it  out 
then.  I  see  so  little  of  you  nowadays,"  she  added  in  a 
lower  voice. 

"  My  dear  girl,  you're  unfair !  "  Chilcote's  spirits  had 
risen ;  he  spoke  rapidly,  almost  pleasantly.  "  It  isn't  I 
who  keep  away — it's  the  stupid  affairs  of  the  world  that 
keep  me.  I'd  be  with  you  every  hour  of  the  twelve — if 
I  had  my  way." 

She  looked  up  at  the  tall  bare  trees.  Her  expression 
was  a  delightful  mixture  of  amusement,  satisfaction,  and 
skepticism. 

"  Then  you  will  dine  ?  "  she  said  at  last. 

"  Certainly."  His  reaction  to  high  spirits  still  carried 
him  forward. 

"  How  nice !    Shall  we  fix  a  day?  " 

"  A  day  ?  Yes.  Yes,  by  all  means,  if  you  like."  He 
hesitated  for  an  instant ;  then  again  the  impulse  of  the 
previous  moment  dominated  his  other  feeling. 

"Yes,"  he  said  quickly.  "Yes.  After  all,  why 
shouldn't  we  fix  it  now  ?  "  With  a  sudden  inclination 
towards  amiability  he  opened  his  overcoat,  thrust  his 
hand  into  an  inner  pocket  and  drew  out  his  engagement- 
book — the  same  long  narrow  book  fitted  with  two  pencils 
that  Loder  had  scanned  so  interestedly  on  his  first  morn- 
ing at  Grosvenor  Square.  He  opened  it,  turning  the 
pages  rapidly. 

"What  day  shall  it  be?  Thursday's  full— and  Fri- 
day— and  Saturday.  What  a  bore !  "  He  still  talked 
fast. 

Lillian  leant  across.    "  What  a  sweet  book !  "  she  said. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  155 

"  But  why  the  blue  crosses  ?  "  She  touched  one  of  the 
pages  with  her  gloved  finger. 

Chilcote  jerked  the  book  quickly,  then  laughed  with  a 
touch  of  embarrassment. 

"  Oh,  the  crosses  ?  Merely  to  remind  me  that  certain 
appointments  must  be  kept.  You  know  my  beastly  mem- 
ory !  But  what  about  the  day  ?  Shall  we  fix  it  ?  "  His 
voice  was  in  control,  but  mentally  her  trivial  question 
had  disturbed  and  jarred  him. 

"  Which  shall  we  say  ?    Monday  in  next  week  ?  " 

She  glanced  up  with  a  faint  exclamation  of  disappoint- 
ment. 

"  How  horribly  far  away ! "  she  said  with  engaging 
petulance;  and  leaning  forward  afresh,  she*  drew  the 
book  from  his  hand. 

"  What  about  to-morrow  ?  "  she  turned  back  a  page. 
"  Why  not  to-morrow  ?  I  knew  I  saw  a  blank  space." 

"  To-morrow !    Oh,  I — I "  he  stopped. 

"  Jack !  "  Her  voice  dropped.  It  was  true  that  she 
desired  Chilcote's  opinion  on  her  adventure — for  Chil- 
cote's  opinion  on  men  and  manners  had  a  certain  bitter 
shrewdness — but  the  exercise  of  her  own  power  added  a 
point  to  the  desire.  If  the  matter  had  ended  with  the 
gain  or  loss  of  a  tete-a-tete  with  him,  it  is  probable  that, 
whatever  its  interest,  she  would  not  have  pressed  it; 
but  the  underlying  motive  was  the  stronger.  Chilcote 
had  been  a  satellite  for  years,  and  it  was  disagreeable 
that  any  satellite  should  drop  away  into  space. 

"  Jack ! "  she  said  again  in  a  lower  and  still  more  ef- 
fective tone;  then,  lifting  her  muff,  she  buried  her  face 
in  her  flowers.  "  I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  dine  and  go 
to  a  music-hall  with  Leonard — or  stay  at  home  by  my- 
self," she  murmured,  looking  out  across  the  trees. 

Again  Chilcote  glanced  over  the  long  tan-strewn 
drive.  They  had  made  the  full  circuit  of  the  Park. 

"It's  tiresome  being  by  oneself,"  she  murmured 
again. 

For  a  while  he  was  irresponsive,  but  slowly  his  eyes 
returned  to  her  face.  He  watched  her  for  a  second,  then 


156  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

leaning  quickly  towards  her,  he  took  his  book  and 
scribbled  something  in  the  vacant  space. 

She  watched  him  interestedly,  her  face  lighting  up. 

"  Dear  Jack !  "  she  said.  "  How  very  sweet  of  you !  " 
Then,  as  he  held  the  book  towards  her,  her  expression 
fell. 

"  Dine  33  Cadogan  Gardens,  8  o'c.  Talk  with  L.,"  she 
read.  "  Why,  you've  forgotten  the  essential  thing !  " 

He  looked  up.     "  The  essential  thing?  " 

She  smiled.  "  The  blue  cross,"  she  said.  "  Isn't  it 
worth  even  a  little  one  ?  " 

The  tone  was  very  winning  and  soft.   Chilcote  yielded. 

"  You  have  the  blue  pencil,"  he  said  in  sudden  re- 
sponse to  her  mood. 

She  glanced  up  in  quiet  pleasure  at  her  success,  and, 
with  a  charming  affectation  of  seriousness,  marked  the 
engagement  with  a  big  cross.  At  the  same  moment  the 
car  slackened  speed  and  stopped,  as  the  chauffeur  waited 
for  further  orders. 

Lillian  shut  the  engagement-book  and  handed  it  back. 

"  Where  can  I  drop  you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  At  your 
club?" 

The  question  recalled  him  to  a  sense  of  present  things. 
He  thrust  the  book  into  his  pocket  and  glanced  about 
him. 

They  had  paused  by  Hyde  Park  Corner.  The  crowd 
of  horses  and  carriages  had  thinned  as  the  hour  of  lunch 
drew  near,  and  the  wide  roadway  of  the  Park  had  an 
air  of  added  space.  The  suggested  loneliness  affected 
him.  The  tall  trees,  still  bereft  of  leaves,  and  the  colos- 
sal gateway  incomprehensibly  stirred  the  sense  of  men- 
tal panic  that  sometimes  seized  him  in  face  of  vastness 
either  of  place  or  architecture.  In  one  moment  Lillian 
— the  appointment  he  had  just  made  and  the  manner  of 
its  making — all  left  his  mind.  The  world  was  filled  with 
his  own  personality,  his  own  immediate  inclinations. 

"  Don't  bother  about  me ! "  he  said  quickly.  "  I  can 
get  out  here.  You've  been  very  good.  It's  been  a  de- 
lightful morning."  With  a  hurried  pressure  of  her 
fingers  he  rose  and  stepped  from  the  car. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  157 

Reaching  the  ground,  he  paused  for  a  moment  and 
raised  his  hat;  then,  without  a  second  glance,  he  turned 
and  walked  rapidly  away. 

Lillian  sat  watching  him  meditatively.  She  saw  him 
pass  through  the  gateway ;  saw  him  hail  a  hansom ;  then 
she  remembered  the  waiting  chauffeur. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

On  the  same  day  that  Chilcote  had  parted  with  Lillian 
— but  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon — Loder,  dressed 
in  Chilcote's  clothes  and  with  Chilcote's  heavy  overcoat 
slung  over  his  arm,  walked  from  Fleet  Street  to  Gros- 
venor  Square.  He  walked  steadily,  neither  slowly  nor 
yet  fast.  The  elation  of  his  last  journey  over  the  same 
ground  was  tempered  by  feelings  he  could  not  satis- 
factorily bracket  even  to  himself.  There  was  less  of 
vehement  elation  and  more  of  matured  determination 
in  his  gait  and  bearing  than  there  had  been  on  that  night, 
though  the  incidents  of  which  they  were  the  outcome 
were  curiously  complex. 

On  reaching  Chilcote's  house  he  passed  upstairs,  but, 
still  following  the  routine  of  his  previous  return,  he 
did  not  halt  at  Chilcote's  door,  but  moved  onward  to- 
wards Eve's  sitting-room — and  there  paused. 

In  that  pause  his  numberless  irregular  thoughts  fused 
into  one.  He  had  the  same  undefined  sense  of  standing 
upon  sacred  ground  that  had  touched  him  on  the  pre- 
vious occasion ;  but  the  outcome  of  the  sensation  was 
different.  This  time,  he  raised  his  hand  almost  imme- 
diately and  tapped  on  the  door. 

He  waited,  but  no  voice  responded  to  his  knock. 
With  a  sense  of  disappointment  he  knocked  again ;  then, 
pressing  his  determination  further,  he  turned  the  handle 
and  entered  the  room. 

No  private  room  is  without  interest — whether  trivial 
or  the  reverse.  In  a  room,  perhaps  more  even  than  in 
speech,  in  look  or  in  work  does  the  impress  of  the  indi- 


158  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

vidual  make  itself  felt.  There,  on  the  wax  of  outer 
things,  the  inner  self  imprints  its  seal — enforces  its  fleet- 
ing claim  to  separate  individuality.  This  thought,  with 
its  arresting  interest,  made  him  walk  slowly,  almost  se- 
riously, half-way  across  the  floor,  and  then  pause  to 
study  his  surroundings. 

The  room  was  of  medium  size — not  too  large  for  com- 
fort and  not  too  small  for  ample  space.  At  a  first  glance 
it  struck  him  as  singularly  unlike  any  anticipation  of  a 
woman's  sanctum.  The  walls,  panelled  in  dark  wood; 
the  richly  bound  books;  the  beautifully  designed  bronze 
ornaments;  even  the  flowers,  deep  crimson  and  violet 
blue  in  tone,  had  an  air  of  sombre  harmony  that  was 
scarcely  feminine.  With  a  strangely  pleasant  impres- 
sion he  realized  this,  and  following  his  habitual  impulse, 
he  moved  slowly  forward  towards  the  fireplace  and 
there  paused,  his  elbow  resting  on  the  mantelpiece. 

He  had  scarcely  settled  comfortably  into  his  position 
— scarcely  entered  on  his  second  and  more  comprehen- 
sive study  of  the  place — than  the  arrangement  of  his 
mind  was  altered  by  the  turning  of  the  handle  and  the 
rapid  opening  of  the  door. 

The  new-comer  was  Eve  herself.  She  was  dressed  in 
outdoor  clothes,  and  walked  into  the  room  quickly ;  then, 
as  Loder  had  done,  she  too  paused. 

Her  movement,  so  natural  and  spontaneous,  had  a  pe- 
culiar attraction :  as  she  glanced  up  at  him,  her  face 
alight  with  inquiry,  she  seemed  extraordinarily  much 
the  owner  and  designer  of  her  surroundings.  She  was 
framed  by  them  as  naturally  and  effectively  as  her  eyes 
were  framed  by  their  black  lashes.  For  one  moment  he 
forgot  that  his  presence  demanded  explanation ;  the  next, 
she  had  made  explanation  needless.  She  had  been  look- 
ing at  him  intently ;  now  she  came  forward  slowly. 

"  John  ?  "  she  said,  half  in  appeal,  half  in  question. 

He  took  a  step  towards  her.  "  Look  at  me !  "  he  said 
quietly  and  involuntarily.  In  trie  sharp  desire  to  estab- 
lish himself  in  her  regard,  he  forgot  that  her  eyes  had 
never  left  his  face. 

But  the  incongruity  of  the  words  did  not  strike  her. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  159 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  I — I  believe  I  knew,  directly 
I  saw  you  here."  The  quick  ring  of  life  vibrating  in 
her  tone  surprised  him.  But  he  had  other  emotions 
more  urgent  than  surprise. 

In  the  five  days  of  banishment  just  lived  through,  the 
need  for  a  readjustment  of  his  position  with  regard  to 
her  had  come  to  him  forcibly.  The  memory  of  the  night 
when  weakness  and  he  had  been  at  perilously  close  quar- 
ters had  returned  to  him  persistently  and  uncomfortably, 
spoiling  the  remembrance  of  his  triumph.  It  had  been 
well  enough  to  smother  the  thought  of  that  night  in  days 
of  work.  But  had  ignoring  it  blotted  out  the  weakness  ? 
Had  it  not  rather  thrown  it  into  bolder  relief?  A  man, 
strong  in  his  own  strength,  does  not  turn  his  back  upon 
temptation — he  faces  and  quells  it.  In  the  solitary  days 
at  Clifford's  Inn;  in  the  solitary  nights,  often  spent  in 
pacing  the  city  streets,  this  had  been  the  conviction  that 
had  recurred  again  and  again — this  the  problem  to  which, 
after  much  consideration,  he  had  found  a  solution,  satis- 
factory at  least  to  himself.  When  next  Chilcote  called 
him,  he  would  make  a  new  departure,  he  had  decided. 
He  would  no  longer  avoid  Eve ;  he  would  successfully 
prove  to  himself  that  one  interest  and  one  alone  filled 
his  mind — the  pursuance  of  Chilcote's  political  career. 
So  does  man  satisfactorily  convince  himself  against  him- 
self. 

"  Well,"  he  said  slowly,  "  has  it  been  very  hard  to 
have  faith — these  last  five  days  ?  "  It  was  not  precisely 
the  tone  he  had  meant  to  adopt ;  but  one  must  begin. 

Eve  turned  at  his  words.  Her  eyes  were  brimming 
with  life,  her  cheeks  were  touched  to  a  deep  soft  color 
by  the  keenness  of  the  spring  air. 

"  No,"  she  answered,  with  a  shy  responsive  touch  of 
confidence  that  was  new.  "  I  seemed  to  keep  on  be- 
lieving. You  know  converts  make  the  best  devotees." 
She  laughed  with  slight  embarrassment  and  glanced  up 
at  him.  Something  in  the  blue  of  her  eyes  reminded 
him  unexpectedly  of  April  skies — full  of  youth  and 
promise. 


160  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

He  moved  abruptly,  and  crossed  the  room  towards  the 
window. 

"  Eve,"  he  said,  without  looking  round,  "  I  want  your 
help." 

He  heard  the  faint  rustling  of  her  dress,  as  once  more 
she  turned  towards  him,  and  he  knew  that  he  had  struck 
the  right  chord.  All  true  women  respond  to  an  appeal 
for  aid  as  steel  answers  to  the  magnet.  He  could  feel 
her  expectancy  in  the  silence. 

"  You  know — we  all  know — that  the  present  moment 
is  very  vital :  that  it's  impossible  to  deny  the  crisis  in 
the  air "  He  still  looked  out  of  the  window.  "  No- 
body feels  it  more  than  I  do — nobody  is  more  exorbi- 
tantly keen  to  have  a  part,  when  the  real  fight  comes — " 
He  stopped,  then  turned  slowly,  and  their  eyes  met. 

"  If  a  man  is  to  succeed  in  such  a  desire,"  he  went  on 
deliberately,  "  he  must  exclude  all  others — he  must  have 
one  purpose,  one  interest,  one  thought.  He  must  for- 
get " 

"—That  he  has  a  wife,"  Eve  finished  gently.  "I 
think  I  understand." 

There  was  no  annoyance  in  her  face  or  voice,  no  sug- 
gestion of  selfishness  or  of  hurt  vanity.  She  had  read 
his  meaning  with  disconcerting  clearness  and  responded 
with  disconcerting  generosity.  A  sudden  and  very  hu- 
man dissatisfaction  with  his  readjustment  scheme  fell 
upon  Loder.  Opposition  is  the  whip  to  action;  a  too 
ready  acquiescence  the  slackened  rein. 

"  Did  I  say  that  ?  "  he  asked  quickly.  The  tone  was 
almost  Chilcote's. 

She  glanced  up  at  him ;  then  a  sudden  incomprehensi- 
ble smile  lighted  up  her  face. 

"  You  didn't  say,  but  you  thought,"  she  answered 
gravely.  "  Thoughts  are  the  same  as  words — to  a  wom- 
an. That's  why  we  are  so  unreasonable."  Again  she 
smiled.  Some  idea,  baffling  and  incomprehensible  to 
Loder,  was  stirring  in  her  mind. 

Conscious  of  the  impression,  he  moved  still  nearer. 
"  You  jump  to  conclusions,"  he  said  abruptly.  "  What  I 
meant  to  imply " 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  161 

" — Was  precisely  what  I've  understood."  Again  she 
finished  his  sentence.  Then  she  laughed  softly.  "  How 
very  wise,  but  how  very,  very  foolish  men  are!  You 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  because  a  woman  is — is  inter- 
ested in  you,  she  is  going  to  hamper  you  in  some  direc- 
tion, and  after  infinite  pains  you  summon  all  your  tact 
and  set  about  saving  the  situation."  There  was  interest, 
even  a  touch  of  amusement  in  her  tone;  her  eyes  were 
still  fixed  steadily  upon  his. 

"  You  think  you  are  very  diplomatic,"  she  went  on 
quietly,  "  but  in  reality  you  are  very  transparent.  The 
woman  reads  the  whole  of  your  meaning  in  your  very 
first  sentence — if  she  hasn't  known  it  before  you  began 
to  speak." 

Again  Loder  made  an  interruption,  but  again  she 
checked  him. 

"  No,"  she  said,  still  smiling.  "  You  should  never  at- 
tempt such  a  task.  Shall  I  tell  you  why  ?  " 

He  stood  silent — puzzled  and  interested. 

"  Because,"  she  said  quickly,  "  when  a  woman  really 
is — interested,  the  man's  career  ranks  infinitely  higher 
in  her  eyes  than  any  personal  desire  for  power." 

For  a  moment  their  eyes  met,  then  abruptly  Loder 
looked  away.  She  had  gauged  his  intentions  incorrectly 
— yet  with  confusing  insight.  Again  the  suggestion  of 
an  unusual  personality  below  the  serenity  of  her  manner 
recurred  to  his  imagination. 

With  an  impulse  altogether  foreign  he  lifted  his  head 
and  again  met  her  glance. 

"  Forgive  me ! "  he  said  with  simple,  direct  sincerity. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

After  his  interview  with  Eve,  Loder  retired  to  the 
study  and  spent  the  remaining  hours  of  the  day  and  the 
whole  span  of  the  evening  in  work.  At  one  o'clock — 
still  feeling  fresh  in  mind  and  body — he  dismissed  Green- 
ing and  passed  into  Chilcote's  bedroom.  The  interview 


162  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

with  Eve,  though  widely  different  from  the  one  he  had 
anticipated,  had  left  him  stimulated  and  alert.  In  the 
hours  that  followed  it  there  had  been  an  added  anxiety 
to  put  his  mind  into  harness,  an  added  gratification  in 
finding  it  answer  to  the  rein. 

A  pleasant  sense  of  retrospection  settled  upon  him  as 
he  began  slowly  to  undress,  and  a  pleasant  sense  of  inter- 
est touched  him  as,  crossing  to  the  dressing-table,  he 
caught  sight  of  Chilcote's  engagement-book — taken  with 
other  things  from  the  suit  he  had  changed  at  dinner- 
time, and  carefully  laid  aside  by  Renwick. 

He  picked  it  up  and  methodically  turned  the  pages. 
It  always  held  the  suggestion  of  a  lottery — this  dipping 
into  another  man's   engagements  and   drawing  a  prize 
or  a  blank.    It  was  a  sensation  that  even  custom  had  not. 
dulled. 

At  first  he  turned  the  pages  slowly,  then  by  degrees 
his  fingers  quickened.  Beyond  the  fact  that  this  present 
evening  was  free,  he  knew  nothing  of  his  promised 
movements.  The  abruptness  of  Chilcote's  arrival  at 
Clifford's  Inn  in  the  afternoon  had  left  no  time  for  su- 
perfluous questions.  He  skimmed  the  writing  with  a 
touch  of  interested  haste,  then  all  at  once  he  paused  and 
smiled. 

"  Big  enough  for  a  tombstone !  "  he  said  below  his 
breath,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  a  large  blue  cross.  Then 
he  smiled  again,  and  held  the  book  to  the  light. 

"  Dine  33  Cadogan  Gardens,  8  o'c.  Talk  with  L.,"  he 
read. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  pondering  on  the  entry,  then 
once  more  his  glance  reverted  to  the  cross. 

"  Evidently  meant  it  to  be  seen !  But  why  the  deuce 
isn't  he  more  explicit !  "  Then  suddenly  a  look  of  com- 
prehension crossed  his  face,  and  the  puzzled  frown  be- 
tween his  eyebrows  cleared  away. 

With  a  feeling  of  satisfaction  he  remembered  Lake- 
ley's  frequent  and  pressing  suggestions  that  he  should 
dine  with  him  at  Cadogan  Gardens  and  discuss  the  politi- 
cal outlook. 

Lakeley  must  have  written  during  his  absence,  and 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  163 

Chilcote — having  marked  the  engagement — felt  no  fur- 
ther responsibility!  The  invitation  could  scarcely  have 
been  verbal,  as  Chilcote,  he  knew,  had  lain  very  low 
in  the  five  days  of  his  return  to  home.  So  he  argued,  as 
he  stood  with  the  book  still  open  in  his  hands — the  blue 
cross  staring  imperatively  from  the  white  paper.  And 
from  the  argument  rose  thoughts  and  suggestions  that 
seethed  in  his  mind  long  after  the  lights  had  been 
switched  off;  long  after  the  fire  had  died  down,  and  he 
had  been  left  wrapped  in  darkness  in  the  great  canopied 
bed. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  he  took  his  second  false 
step.  Once  during  the  press  of  the  next  morning's 
work,  it  crossed  his  mind  to  verify  his  convictions  by  a 
glance  at  the  directory.  But  for  once  the  strong  wish 
that  evolves  a  thought  conquered  his  caution.  His  work 
was  absorbing;  the  need  of  verification  seemed  very 
small.  He  let  the  suggestion  pass. 

At  seven  o'clock  he  dressed  carefully.  His  mind  was 
full  of  Lakeley  and  of  the  possibilities  the  night  might 
hold.  More  than  once  before,  the  weight  of  the  "  St. 
George's  Gazette  "  with  Lakeley  at  its  back  had  turned 
the  political  scales.  To  be  marked  by  him  as  a  coming 
man  was  at  any  time  a  favorable  portent;  to  be  singled 
out  by  him  at  the  present  juncture  was  momentous.  A 
thrill  of  expectancy,  almost  of  excitement,  passed 
through  Loder  as  he  surveyed  his  appearance,  prepara- 
tory to  leaving  Chilcote's  room. 

Having  descended  the  stairs,  he  moved  straight  to 
the  hall-door;  but  almost  as  his  hand  touched  it,  he 
halted,  attracted  by  a  movement  on  the  landing  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs.  Glancing  upward,  he  saw  Eve. 

She  was  standing  quite  still,  looking  down  upon  him 
as  she  had  looked  once  before.  As  their  eyes  met,  she 
changed  her  position  hastily. 

"  You  are  going  out  ? "  she  asked.  And  it  struck 
Loder  quickly  that  there  was  a  suggestion,  a  shadow  of 
disappointment  in  the  tone  of  her  voice.  Moved  by  the 
impression,  he  responded  with  unusual  promptness. 


1U4  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  I'm  dining  out — dining  with  Lake- 
ley." 

While  he  spoke,  she  watched  him  intently;  then,  as 
the  meaning  of  his  words  reached  her,  her  whole  face 
brightened. 

"With  Mr.  Lakeley?"  she  said.  "Oh,  I'm  glad- 
very  glad.  It  is  quite — quite  another  step."  She  smiled 
with  a  warm  impulsive  touch  of  sympathy. 

Loder,  still  watching  her  attentively,  felt  his  senses 
stir.  At  sound  of  her  words,  his  secret  ambitions  quick- 
ened to  stronger  life.  The  man  whose  sole  incentive 
lies  within  may  go  forward  coldly  and  successfully;  but 
the  man  who  grasps  a  double  inspiration — who,  even 
unconsciously,  is  impelled  by  a  force  other  than  his  own 
— has  a  stronger  impetus  for  attack,  a  surer,  more  vital 
hewing  power. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  at  last,  slowly — "  Yes.  A  long  step." 
And  with  a  smile  of  farewell  he  turned,  opened  the  hall- 
door,  and  passed  into  the  road. 

The  thrill  of  that  one  moment  was  still  warm  within 
him  as  fie  reached  Cadogan  Gardens  and  mounted  the 
steps  of  the  house  he  sought,  so  warm  that  involuntarily 
he  waited  for  an  instant  before  pressing  the  electric  bell. 
Then,  however,  his  anticipation  dominated  him.;  he 
turned  and  raised  his  hand. 

The  action  was  abrupt ;  and  it  was  only  as  his  fingers 
pressed  the  bell  that  a  certain  unexpectedness,  a  certain 
want  of  suitability  in  the  aspect  of  the  house,  struck 
him.  The  door  was  white,  the  handle  and  knocker  were 
of  massive  silver.  The  first  seemed  a  disappointing  in- 
dex of  Lakeley's  private  taste,  the  second  a  ridiculous 
temptation  to  needy  humanity.  He  looked  again  at  the 
number  of  the  house,  but  it  stared  back  at  him  convinc- 
ingly. Then  the  door  opened. 

So  keen  was  his  sense  of  unfitness  that,  still  trying  to 
fuse  his  impression  of  Lakeley  with  the  idea  of  silver 
door-fittings,  he  stepped  into  the  hall  without  the  usual 
preliminary  question.  Suddenly  realizing  the  necessity, 
he  turned  to  the  servant;  but  the  man  forestalled  him — 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  165 

"  Will  you  come  into  the  white  drawing-room,  sir  ? 
And  may  I  take  your  coat  ?  " 

The  smooth  certainty  of  the  man's  manner  surprised 
him.  It  held  another  unreasonable  savor  of  disappoint- 
ment— seeming  as  little  in  keeping  with  the  keen  busi- 
nesslike Lakeley  as  did  the  house.  Still  struggling-  with 
his  impression,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  relieved  of  his 
hat  and  coat,  and  in  silence  followed  the  servant  up  the 
shallow  staircase. 

As  the  last  step  was  reached,  it  came  to  him  again  to 
mention  his  host's  name,  but  simultaneously  with  the 
suggestion  the  man  stepped  forward  with  a  quick,  silent 
movement  and  threw  open  a  door. 

"  Mr.  Chilcote !  "  he  announced,  in  a  subdued  discreet 
voice. 

Loders  first  impression  was  of  a  room  that  seemed 
unusually  luxurious,  soft  and  shadowed.  Then  all  im- 
pression of  outward  things  left  him  suddenly. 

For  the  fraction  of  a  second  he  stood  in  the  doorway, 
while  the  room  seemed  emptied  of  everything  but  a  figure, 
that  rose  slowly  from  a  couch  before  the  fire  at  sound  of 
Chilcote's  name;  then,  with  a  calmness  that  to  himself 
seemed  incredible,  he  moved  forward  into  the  room. 

He  might  of  course  have  beaten  a  retreat  and  obviated 
many  things.  But  life  is  full  of  might-have-beens,  and 
retreat  never  presents  itself  agreeably  to  a  strong  man. 
His  impulse  was  to  face  the  difficulty,  and  he  acted  on 
the  impulse. 

Lillian  had  risen  slowly,  and,  as  he  neared  her,  she 
held  out  her  hand. 

"  Jack !  "  she  exclaimed  softly.  "  How  sweet  of  you 
to  remember ! " 

The  voice  and  words  came  to  him  with  great  distinct- 
ness, and  as  they  came  one  uncertainty  passed  forever 
from  his  mind — the  question  as  to  what  relation  she  and 
Chilcote  held  to  each  other.  With  the  realization,  came 
the  thought  of  Eve ;  and  in  the  midst  of  his  own  difficulty 
his  face  hardened. 

Lillian  ignored  the  expression.  Taking  his  hand,  she 
smiled  very  sweetly. 


166  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  You're  very  punctual,"  she  said.  "  But  your  hands 
are  cold.  Come  closer  to  the  fire." 

Loder  was  not  sensible  that  his  hands  were  cold,  but 
he  suffered  himself  to  be  drawn  forward. 

One  end  of  the  couch  was  in  firelight,  the  other  in 
shadow.  By  a  fortunate  arrangement  of  chance,  Lillian 
selected  the  brighter  end  for  herself  and  offered  the  other 
to  her  guest.  With  a  quick  sense  of  respite,  he  accepted 
it.  Here  at  least  he  could  sit  secure  from  detection  while 
he  temporized  with  Fate. 

For  a  moment  they  sat  silent,  then  she  turned  towards 
him. 

"  Won't  you  smoke  ?  "  she  asked. 

Everything  in  the  room  seemed  soft  and  enervating — 
the  subdued  glow  of  the  fire,  the  smell  of  roses,  Lillian's 
slow  soothing  voice.  With  a  sense  of  oppression  he 
stiffened  his  shoulders  and  sat  straighter  in  his  place. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  think  I  shall  smoke." 

She  moved  nearer  to  him. 

"  Dear  Jack !  "  she  said  softly,  "  don't  say  you're  in  a 
bad  mood.  Don't  say  you  want  to  postpone  again."  She 
looked  up  at  him  and  laughed  a  little. 

Loder  was  at  a  loss. 

Another  silence  followed,  while  Lillian  waited;  then 
she  frowned  suddenly  and  rose  from  the  couch.  Like 
many  indolent  people,  she  possessed  a  touch  of  obstinacy ; 
and  now  that  her  triumph  over  Chilcote  was  obtained — 
now  that  she  had  vindicated  her  right  to  command  him — 
her  original  purpose  came  uppermost  again.  Cold  or 
interested,  indifferent  or  attentive,  she  intended  to  make 
use  of  him. 

She  moved  to  the  fire  and  stood  looking  down  into  it; 
then  slowly  but  decisively  she  turned  back  to  the  couch 
and  took  up  her  former  place. 

"  Jack ! "  she  began  gently,  "  a  really  amazing  thing 
has  happened  to  me.  I  do  so  want  you  to  throw  some 
light." 

There  was  a  fresh  pause  while  she  softly  smoothed 
the  silk  embroidery  that  edged  her  gown.  Then  once 
more  she  looked  up  at  him. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  167 

"  Did  I  ever  tell  you,"  she  began  incontinently,  "  that 
I  was  once  in  a  railway  accident  on  a  funny  little  Italian 
railway,  centuries  before  I  met  you  ?  " 

Loder  said  nothing,  but  she  ignored  his  silence. 

"  Astrupp  had  caught  a  fever  in  Florence,"  she  went 
on,  "  and  I  was  rushing  away  for  fear  of  the  infection, 
when  our  stupid  little  train  ran  off  the  rails  near  Pistoria 
and  smashed  itself  up.  Fortunately  we  were  within  half 
a  mile  of  a  village,  so  we  weren't  quite  bereft.  The  vil- 
lage was  impossibly  like  a  toy  village,  and  the  accommo- 
dation what  one  would  expect  in  a  Noah's  Ark.  But  it 
was  all  absolutely  picturesque.  I  put  up  at  the  little  inn 
with  my  maid  and  Ko  Ko — Ko  Ko  was  such  a  sweet  dog, 
a  white  poodle.  I  was  tremendously  keen  on  poodles 
that  year."  She  stopped  and  looked  thoughtfully  to- 
wards the  fire,  then  slowly  back  at  Loder. 

"  But  to  come  to  the  point  of  the  story,  Jack ;  the  toy 
village  had  a  boy  doll !  "  she  laughed  very  softly.  "  He 
was  an  Englishman,  and  the  first  person  to  come  to  my 
rescue  after  the  upset.  He  was  staying  at  the  Noah's 

Ark  inn,  and  after  that  first  night  I — he — we "  She 

hesitated.  "  Oh,  Jack,  haven't  you  anything  in  the  world 
to  say  ?  "  Her  voice  dropped  disappointedly.  The  man 
who  is  indifferent  to  the  recital  of  an  old  love-affair  im- 
plies the  worst  kind  of  listener. 

"  I  believe  you  aren't  interested,"  she  said  in  a  re- 
proachful tone. 

For  the  first  time  Loder  altered  his  position;  with  a 
sudden  movement  he  sat  forward  in  his  chair.  "  You're 
wrong  there,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I'm  deeply  interested." 

She  glanced  at  him  again.  His  tone  reassured  her, 
but  his  words  left  her  uncertain.  Chilcote  was  rarely 
emphatic.  With  a  touch  of  hesitation  she  went  on  with 
her  tale. 

"  As  I  told  you,  he  was  the  first  to  find  us — to  find  me, 
I  should  say — for  my  maid  was  having  hysterics  farther 
up  the  line  and  Ko  Ko  was  lost.  I  remember  the  first 
thing  I  did  was  to  send  him  in  search  of  the  dog." 

Notwithstanding  his  position,  Loder  found  occasion  to 
smile. 


168  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  Did  he  succeed?"  he  asked  drily. 

"  Succeed  ?  Oh  yes,  he  succeeded,"  she  also  smiled 
involuntarily.  "  Poor  Ko  Ko  was  stowed  away  under 
the  luggage-van,  and  after  quite  a  lot  of  trouble  he 
pulled  him  out.  When  it  was  all  done  Ko  Ko  was  quite 
unhurt  and  livelier  than  ever,  but  the  Englishman  had 
his  finger  almost  bitten  through.  Ko  Ko  was  a  dear; 
but  his  teeth  and  his  temper  were  both  very  sharp !  " 
She  laughed  once  more  in  soft  amusement. 

Loder  was  silent  for  a  second,  then  he  too  laughed — 
Chilcote's  short  sarcastic  laugh. 

"And  you  tied  up  the  wound,  I  suppose  ?  " 

She  glanced  up,  half  displeased.  "  We  were  both  stay- 
ing at  the  little  inn,"  she  said,  as  though  no  further  ex- 
planation could  be  needed.  Then  again  her  manner 
changed.  She  moved  imperceptibly  nearer  and  touched 
his  right  hand.  His  left,  which  was  further  away  from 
her,  was  well  in  the  shadow  of  the  cushions. 

"  Jack,"  she  said  caressingly,  "  it  isn't  to  tell  you  this 
stupid  old  story  that  I've  brought  you  here ;  it's  really 
to  tell  you  a  sort  of  sequel."  She  stroked  his  hand  gently 
once  or  twice.  "  As  I  say,  I  met  this  man,  and  we — we 
had  an  affair.  You  understand?  Then  we  quarreled — 
quarreled  quite  badly — and  I  came  away.  I've  remem- 
bered him  rather  longer  than  I  remember  most  people — 
he  was  one  of  those  dogged  individuals  who  stick  in  one's 
mind ;  and  he  has  stayed  in  mine  for  a  double  reason." 

Again  she  looked  up.  "  He  has  stayed  because  you 
helped  to  keep  him  there.  You  know  how  I  have  some- 
times put  my  hands  over  your  mouth,  and  told  you  that 
your  eyes  reminded  me  of  some  one  else's?  Well,  that 
some  one  was  my  Englishman.  But  you  mustn't  be  jeal- 
ous; he  was  a  horrid,  obstinate  person,  and  you — well, 

you  know  what  I  think  of  you "  She  pressed  his 

hand.  "But  to  come  to  the  end  of  the  story,  I  never 
saw  this  man  since  that  long  ago  time  until — until  the 
night  of  Blanche's  party ! "  She  spoke  slowly,  to  give 
full  effect  to  her  words ;  then  she  waited  for  his  surprise. 

The  result  was  not  quite  what  she  expected.     Loder 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  169 

said  nothing,  but  with  an  abrupt  movement  he  drew  his 
hand  from  between  hers. 

"  Aren't  you  surprised  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  delicate 
note  of  reproof. 

He  started  slightly,  as  if  recalled  to  the  necessity  of 
the  moment. 

"  Surprised  ?  "  he  said.  "  Why  should  I  be  surprised  ? 
One  person  more  or  less  at  a  big  party  isn't  astonishing. 
Beside,  you  expect  a  man  to  turn  up  sooner  or  later  in 
his  own  country.  Why  should  I  be  surprised  ?  " 

She  lay  back  luxuriously.  "  Because,  my  dear  boy," 
she  said  softly,  "  it's  more  than  a  surprise — it's  a  mys- 
tery !  It's  one  of  those  fascinating  mysteries  that  come 
once  in  a  lifetime." 

Loder  made  no  movement.  "  You  must  explain,"  he 
said  very  quietly. 

Lillian  smiled.  "  That's  just  what  I  want  to  do.  When 
I  was  in  my  tent  on  the  night  of  Blanche's  party,  a  man 
came  to  be  gazed  for.  He  came  just  like  anybody  else 
and  laid  his  hands  upon  the  table.  He  had  strong  thin 
hands,  like — well,  rather  like  yours,  and  he  wore  two 
rings  on  the  third  ringer  of  his  left  hand — a  heavy  signet 
ring  and  a  plain  gold  one." 

Loder  moved  his  hand  imperceptibly  till  the  cushion 
completely  covered  it.  Lillian's  words  caused  him  no 
surprise,  scarcely  even  any  trepidation.  He  felt  now 
that  he  had  expected  them,  had  unconsciously  waited  for 
them  all  along. 

"  I  asked  him  to  take  off  his  rings,"  she  went  on, 
"  and  just  for  a  second  he  hesitated — I  could  feel  him 
hesitate — then  he  seemed  to  make  up  his  mind,  and  drew 
them  off.  He  drew  them  off,  Jack,  and  guess  what  I 
saw  !  Do  guess !  " 

For  the  first  time  Loder  involuntarily  drew  back  into 
his  corner  of  the  couch.  "  I  never  guess,"  he  said 
brusquely. 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you.  His  hands  were  the  hands  of  my 
Englishman !  The  rings  covered  the  scar  made  by  Ko 
Ko's  teeth.  I  knew  it  instantly — the  second  my  eyes 
rested  on  it.  It  was  the  same  scar  that  I  had  bound  up 


170  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

dozens  of  times,  that  I  had  seen  healed  before  I  left 
Santasalare." 

"  And  you?  What  did  you  do?  "  Loder  felt  it  singu- 
larly difficult  and  unpleasant  to  speak. 

"  Ah,  that's  the  point.  That's  where  I  was  stupid  and 
made  my  mistake.  I  should  have  spoken  to  him  on  the 
moment,  but  I  didn't.  You  know  how  one  sometimes 
hesitates.  Afterwards,  it  was  too  late." 

"  Why  ?  Wasn't  he  visible  later  ?  "  Loder  spoke  un- 
willingly. 

"  No.  No ;  that's  the  other  point.  I  didn't  see  him  in 
the  rooms,  and  I  haven't  seen  him  since.  Directly  he 
was  gone,  I  left  the  tent;  I  pretended  to  be  hungry  and 
bored;  but  though  I  went  through  every  room  he  was 
nowhere  to  be  found.  Once  " — she  hesitated  and  laughed 
again — "  once  I  thought  I  had  found  him,  but  it  was 
only  you — you,  as  you  stood  in  that  doorway  with  your 
mouth  and  chin  hidden  by  Leonard  Kaine's  head.  Wasn't 
it  a  quaint  mistake?  " 

There  was  an  uncertain  pause.  Then  Loder,  feeling 
the  need  of  speech,  broke  the  silence  suddenly. 

"  Where  do  I  come  in  ?  "  he  asked  abruptly.  "  What 
am  I  wanted  for  ?  " 

"  To  help  to  throw  light  on  the  mystery !  I've  seen 
Blanche's  list  of  people,  and  there  wasn't  a  man  I  couldn't 
place — no  outsider  ever  squeezes  through  Blanche's  door. 
I  have  questioned  Bobby  Blessington,  but  he  can't  re- 
member who  came  to  the  tent  last.  And  Bobby  was 
supposed  to  have  kept  count !  "  She  spoke  in  deep  scorn ; 
then  the  scorn  faded  and  she  smiled  again. 

"  Well,  now  that  I've  explained,  Jack,  what  do  you 
suggest  ?  " 

Then  for  the  first  time  Loder  realized  what  his  pres- 
ence in  the  room  really  meant;  and  at  best,  the  knowl- 
edge was  disconcerting.  It  is  not  every  day  that  a  man 
is  called  upon  to  unearth  himself. 

"  Suggest  ?  "  he  repeated  blankly. 

"Yes.  I'd  rather  have  your  idea  of  the  affair  than 
anybody  else's.  You  are  so  dear  and  sarcastic  and  keen 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  171 

that  you  can't  help  getting  straight  at  the  middle  of  a 
fact." 

When  Lillian  wanted  anything  she  could  be  very  sweet. 
She  suddenly  dropped  her  half-petulant  tone,  she  sud- 
denly ceased  to  be  a  spoilt  child.  With  a  perfectly 
graceful  movement  she  drew  quite  close  to  Loder,  and 
slid  gently  to  her  knees. 

This  is  an  attitude  that  few  women  can  safely  assume ; 
it  requires  all  the  attributes  of  youth,  suppleness  and  a 
certain  buoyant  ease.  But  Lillian  never  acted  without 
justification;  and  as  she  leant  towards  Loder,  her  face 
lifted,  her  slight  figure  and  pale  hair  softened  by  the 
firelight,  she  made  a  picture  that  it  would  have  been 
difficult  to  criticise. 

But  the  person  who  should  have  appreciated  it  stared 
steadily  beyond  it  to  the  fire.  His  mind  was  absorbed  by 
one  question — the  question  of  how  he  might  reasonably 
leave  the  house  before  discovery  became  assured. 

Lillian,  attentively  watchful  of  him,  saw  the  uneasy 
look,  and  her  own  face  fell.  Then  an  inspiration  came  to 
her — a  remembrance  of  many  interviews  with  Chilcote 
smoothed  and  facilitated  by  the  timely  use  of  tobacco. 

"  Jack,"  she  said  softly,  "  before  you  say  another  word, 
I  insist  on  your  lighting  a  cigarette."  She  leant  for- 
ward, resting  against  his  knee. 

At  her  words,  Loder's  eyes  left  the  fire.  His  attention 
was  suddenly  needed  for  a  new  and  more  imminent  dif- 
ficulty. 

"  Thanks !  "  he  said  quickly.  "  But  I — I  have  no  wish 
to  smoke." 

"It  isn't  a  matter  of  what  you  wish,  but  of  what  I 
say."  She  smiled.  She  knew  that  Chilcote  with  a  cigar- 
ette between  his  lips  was  infinitely  more  tractable  than 
Chilcote  sitting  idle,  anl  she  had  no  intention  of  ignoring 
the  knowledge. 

But  Loder  caught  at  her  words.  "  Before  you  ordered 
me  to  smoke,"  he  said,  "  you  told  me  to  give  you  some 
advice.  Your  first  command  must  have  prior  claim." 
He  grasped  unhesitatingly  at  the  less  risky  theme. 

She  looked  up  at  him.     "  You're  always  nicer  when 


172  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

you  smoke/'  she  persisted  caressingly.  "  Light  a  cigar- 
ette— and  give  me  one." 

Loder's  mouth  hardened.  "  No,"  he  said,  "  we'll  stick 
to  this  advice  business.  It  interests  me." 

"  Yes — afterwards." 

"  No,  now.  You  want  to  find  out  why  this  English- 
man from  Italy  was  at  your  sister's  party,  and  why  he 
disappeared  ?  " 

There  are  times  when  a  malignant  obstinacy  seems  to 
affect  certain  people.  The  only  answer  Lillian  made  was 
to  pass  her  hand  over  Loder's  waistcoat  and,  feeling  his 
cigarette-case,  to  draw  it  from  the  pocket. 

He  affected  not  to  see  it.  "  Do  you  think  he  recog- 
nized you  in  that  tent  ?  "  he  insisted  desperately. 

Lillian  held  out  the  case.  "  Here  are  your  cigarettes. 
You  know  we're  always  more  social  when  we  smoke." 

In  the  short  interval  while  she  looked  up  into  his  face, 
several  ideas  passed  through  Loder's  mind.  He  thought 
of  standing  up  suddenly  and  so  regaining  his  advantage ; 
he  wondered  quickly  whether  one  hand  could  possibly 
suffice  for  the  taking  out  and  lighting  of  two  cigarettes. 
Then  all  need  for  speculation  was  pushed  suddenly  aside. 

Lillian,  studying  his  face,  saw  his  fresh  look  of  dis- 
turbance, and  from  long  experience  again  changed  her 
tactics.  Laying  the  cigarette-case  on  the  conch,  she  put 
one  hand  on  his  shoulder,  the  other  on  his  left  arm. 
Hundreds  of  times  this  caressing  touch  had  quieted  Chil- 
cote. 

"  Dear  old  Jack ! "  she  said  soothingly,  her  hand  mov- 
ing slowly  down  his  arm. 

In  a  flash  of  understanding,  the  consequences  of  this 
position  came  to  Loder.  Action  was  imperative,  at  what- 
ever risk.  With  an  abrupt  gesture  he  rose. 

The  movement  was  awkward.  He  got  to  his  feet  pre- 
cipitately; Lillian  drew  back,  surprised  and  startled, 
catching  involuntarily  at  his  left  hand  to  steady  her  po- 
sition. 

Her  fingers  grasped  at,  then  held  his.  He  made  no 
effort  to  release  them.  With  a  dogged  acknowledgment, 
he  admitted  himself  worsted  by  Fate. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  1?3 

How  long  she  stayed  immovable,  holding  his  hand, 
neither  of  them  knew.  The  action  of  a  woman's  instinct 
is  so  subtle,  so  obscure  that  it  is  futile  to  apply  to  it 
the  commonplace  test  of  time.  She  kept  her  hold  tena- 
ciously, as  though  his  ringers  possessed  some  peculiar 
virtue ;  then  at  last  she  spoke. 

"  Rings,  Jack  ?  "  she  said  slowly.  And  under  the  two 
short  words  a  whole  world  of  incredulity  and  surmise 
made  itself  felt. 

Loder  laughed. 

At  the  sound  she  dropped  his  hand  and  rose  from  her 
knees.  What  her  suspicions — what  her  instincts — were 
she  could  not  have  clearly  defined,  but  her  action  was 
unhesitating.  Without  a  moment's  uncertainty  she  turned 
to  the  fireplace,  pressed  the  electric  switch,  and  flooded 
the  room  with  light. 

There  is  no  force  so  demoralizing  as  unexpected  light. 
Loder  took  a  step  backward,  his  hand  hanging  unguarded 
by  his  side ;  and  Lillian,  stepping  forward,  caught  it 
again  before  he  could  protest.  Lifting  it  quickly,  she 
looked  scrutinizingly  at  his  two  rings. 

All  women  jump  to  conclusions,  and  it  is  extraordi- 
nary how  seldom  they  jump  short.  Seeing  only  what 
Lillian  saw,  knowing  only  what  she  knew,  no  man  would 
have  staked  a  definite  opinion;  but  the  other  sex  takes 
a  different  view.  As  she  stood  gazing  at  the  rings,  her 
thoughts  and  her  conclusions  sped  through  her  mind  like 
arrows — all  aimed  and  all  tending  towards  one  point. 
She  remembered  the  day  when  she  and  Chilcote  had 
talked  of  doubles,  her  skepticism  and  his  vehement  de- 
fense of  the  idea ;  his  sudden  interest  in  the  book  "  Other 
Men's  Shoes,"  and  his  anathema  against  life  and  its  irk- 
some round  of  duties.  She  remembered  her  own  first 
convinced  recognition  of  the  eyes  that  had  looked  at  her 
in  the  doorway  of  her  sister's  house;  and,  last  of  all, 
she  remembered  Chilcote's  unaccountable  avoidance  of 
the  same  subject  of  likenesses  when  she  had  mentioned 
it  yesterday  driving  through  the  park ;  and  with  it,  his 
unnecessary  curt  repudiation  of  his  former  opinions. 


174  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

She  reviewed  each  item ;  then  she  raised  her  head  slowly 
and  looked  at  Loder. 

He  was  prepared  for  the  glance,  and  met  it  steadily. 
In  the  long  moment  that  her  eyes  searched  his  face  it 
was  she  and  not  he  who  changed  color.  Nevertheless 
she  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"  You  were  the  man  whose  hands  I  saw  in  the  tent," 
she  said.  She  made  the  statement  in  her  usual  soft  tones, 
but  a  slight  tremor  of  excitement  underran  her  voice. 
Poodles — Persian  kittens — even  crystal  gazing-balls 
seemed  very  far  away  in  face  of  this  tangible,  fabulous, 
present  interest. 

"  You  are  not  Jack  Chilcote,"  she  said  very  slowly. 
"  You  are  wearing  his  clothes,  and  speaking  in  his  voice, 
but  you  are  not  Jack  Chilcote."  Then  her  tone  quick- 
ened with  a  touch  of  excitement — 

"  You  needn't  keep  silent  and  look  at  me.  I  know 
quite  well  what  I  am  saying — though  I  don't  understand 
it — though  I  have  no  real  proof "  She  paused,  mo- 
mentarily disconcerted  by  her  companion's  steady  gaze, 
and  in  the  pause  a  curious  and  unexpected  thing  oc- 
curred. 

Loder  laughed  suddenly — a  full,  confident,  reassured 
laugh.  All  the  web  that  the  past  half-hour  had  spun 
about  him,  all  the  intolerable  sense  of  an  impending 
crash,  lifted  suddenly.  He  saw  his  way  clearly,  and  it 
was  Lillian  who  had  opened  his  eyes. 

Still  looking  at  her,  he  smiled — a  smile  of  reliant  de- 
termination, such  as  Chilcote  had  never  worn  in  his  life. 
And  quite  calmly  he  released  his  hand. 

"  The  greatest  charm  of  woman  is  her  imagination," 
he  said  quietly.  "  Without  it,  there  would  be  no  color 
in  life ;  we  would  come  into  it  and  drop  out  of  it  with 
the  same  uninteresting  tone  of  drab  reality."  He  paused 
and  smiled  again. 

At  his  smile  Lillian  involuntarily  drew  back,  the  color 
deepening  in  her  cheeks. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  ?  "  she  asked. 

He  lifted  his  head.  With  each  moment  he  felt  more 
certain  of  himself. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  175 

"  Because  that  is  my  attitude,"  he  said.  "  As  a  man,  I 
admire  your  imagination;  but,  as  a  man,  I  fail  to  follow 
your  reasoning." 

The  words  and  the  tone  both  stung  her.  "  Do  you  un- 
derstand the  position  ?  "  she  asked  sharply.  "  Do  you 
realize  that  whatever  your  plans  are  I  can  upset  them  ?  " 

Loder  still  met  her  eyes.  "  I  realize  nothing  of  the 
sort,"  he  said. 

"  Then  you  admit  that  you  are  not  Jack  Chilcote?  " 

"  I  neither  deny  nor  admit.  My  identity  is  obvious. 
I  can  get  twenty  men  to  swear  to  it  at  any  moment  that 
you  like.  The  fact  that  I  haven't  worn  rings  till  now 
will  scarcely  interest  them." 

"  But  you  admit — to  me — that  you  are  not  Jack  ?  " 

"  I  deny  nothing — and  admit  nothing.  But  I  still  offer 
my  congratulations." 

"Upon  what?" 

"  The  same  possession — your  imagination." 

Lillian  stamped  her  foot.  Then,  by  a  quick  effort,  she 
conquered  her  temper. 

"  Prove  me  to  be  wrong ! "  she  said,  with  a  fresh  touch 
of  excitement.  "  Take  off  your  rings  and  let  me  see 
your  hand." 

With  a  deliberate  gesture  Loder  put  his  hand  behind 
his  back. 

"  I  never  gratify  childish  curiosity,"  he  said,  with  an- 
other smile. 

Again  a  flash  of  temper  crossed  her  eyes. 

"  Are  you  sure,"  she  said,  "  that  it's  quite  wise  to  talk 
like  that?" 

He  laughed  again.    "  Is  that  a  threat  ?  " 

"  Perhaps." 

"  Then  it's  an  empty  one." 

"Why?" 

Before  replying,  he  waited  a  moment,  looking  down  at 
her. 

"  I  conclude,"  he  said  at  last  quietly,  "  that  your  idea 
is  to  spread  this  wild  improbable  story — to  ask  people 
to  believe  that  John  Chilcote,  whom  they  see  before  them, 
is  not  John  Chilcote  but  somebody  else.  Now,  you'll 


176  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

find  that  a  harder  task  than  you  imagine.  This  is  a  skep- 
tical world,  and  people  are  absurdly  fond  of  their  own 
eyesight.  We  are  all  journalists  nowadays — we  all  want 
facts.  The  first  thing  you  will  be  asked  for  is  your 
proof.  And  what  does  your  proof  consist  of?  The  cir- 
cumstance that  John  Chilcote,  who  has  always  despised 
jewelry,  has  lately  taken  to  wearing  rings!  Your  own 
statement,  unattested  by  any  witnesses,  that  with  those 
rings  off,  his  finger  bears  a  scar  belonging  to  another 
man !  No ;  on  closer  examination,  I  scarcely  think  your 
case  would  hold — I  scarcely  imagine  that  your  case  would 
hold."  He  stopped,  fired  by  his  own  logic.  The  future 
might  be  Chilcote's,  but  the  present  was  his.  And  this 
present,  with  its  immeasurable  possibilities,  had  been 
rescued  from  catastrophe. 

"  No,"  he  said  again.  "  When  you  get  your  proof, 
perhaps  we'll  have  another  talk ;  but  till  then " 

"  Till  then  ? "  She  looked  up  quickly ;  then  she 
stopped. 

The  door  opened,  and  the  servant  who  had  admitted 
Loder  stepped  deferentially  into  the  room. 

"  Dinner  is  served,"  he  announced,  in  his  discreet  and 
well-trained  voice. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

And  Loder  dined  with  Lillian  Astrupp.  We  live  in  an 
age  when  society  expects — even  exacts  much.  He  dined, 
not  through  bravado  and  not  through  cowardice,  but 
because  it  seemed  the  obvious — the  only  thing  to  do. 
To  him,  a  scene  of  any  description  was  distasteful ;  to 
Lillian,  it  was  unknown.  In  her  world,  people  loved  or 
hated,  were  spiteful  or  foolish,  were  even  quixotic  or  dis- 
honorable, but  they  seldom  made  scenes.  Loder  tacitly 
saw  and  tacitly  accepted  this. 

Possibly  they  ate  extremely  little  during  the  course  of 
the  dinner,  and  talked  extraordinarily  much  on  subjects 
that  interested  neither;  but  the  main  point  at  least  was 
gained.  They  dined.  The  conventionalities  were  ap- 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  177 

peased — the  silent,  watchful  servants  who  waited  on  them 
were  given  no  food  for  comment.  The  fact  that  Loder 
left  immediately  after  dinner;  the  fact  that  he  paused 
on  the  doorstep  after  the  hall-door  had  closed  behind  him, 
and  drew  a  long,  deep  breath  of  relief,  held  only  an  in- 
dividual significance,  and  therefore  did  not  count. 

On  reaching  Chilcote's  house,  he  passed  at  once  to 
the  study  and  dismissed  Greening  for  the  night.  But 
scarcely  had  he  taken  advantage  of  his  solitude  by  set- 
tling into  an  arm-chair  and  lighting  a  cigar  than  Ren- 
wick — displaying  an  unusual  amount  of  haste  and  im- 
portance— entered  the  room,  carrying  a  letter. 

Seeing  Loder,  he  came  forward  at  once. 

"  Mr.  Fraide's  man  brought  this,  sir,"  he  explained. 
"  He  was  most  particular  to  give  it  into  my  hands — 
making  sure  'twould  reach  you.  He's  waiting  for  an 
answer." 

Loder  rose  and  took  the  letter,  a  quick  thrill  of  specu- 
lation and  interest  springing  across  his  mind.  During 
his  time  of  banishment,  he  had  followed  the  political 
situation  with  feverish  attention — insupportably  chafed 
by  the  desire  to  share  in  it,  apprehensively  chilled  at  the 
thought  of  Chilcote's  possible  behavior.  He  knew  that 
in  the  comparatively  short  interval  since  Parliament  had 
risen  no  act  of  aggression  had  marked  the  Russian  occu- 
pation of  Meshed,  but  he  also  knew  that  Fraide  and  his 
followers  looked  askance  at  that  great  Power's  amiable 
attitude,  and  at  sight  of  his  leader's  message  his  intuition 
stirred. 

Turning  to  the  nearest  lamp,  he  tore  the  envelope  apart 
and  scanned  the  letter  anxiously.  It  was  written  in 
Fraide's  own  clear,  somewhat  old-fashioned  handwrit- 
ing, and  opened  with  a  kindly  rebuke  for  his  desertion 
of  him  since  the  day  of  his  speech;  then  immediately, 
and  with  characteristic  clearness,  it  opened  up  the  sub- 
ject nearest  the  writer's  mind. 

Very  slowly  and  attentively  Loder  read  the  letter ;  and 
in  the  extremely  quiet  manner  that,  with  him,  invariably 
covered  emotion,  he  rnoyetj  to  the  desk,  wrote  a  note, 


178  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

and  handed  it  to  the  waiting  servant.  But  as  the  man 
turned  towards  the  door,  he  called  him  back. 

"  Renwick !  "  he  said  sharply,  "  when  you've  given  that 
letter  to  Mr.  Fraide's  servant,  ask  Mrs.  Chilcote  if  she 
can  spare  me  five  minutes." 

When  Renwick  had  gone  and  closed  the  door  behind 
him,  Loder  began  to  pace  the  room,  with  suddenly 
aroused  activity.  In  one  moment  the  aspect  of  life  had 
been  changed.  Ten  minutes  since,  he  had  been  glorying 
in  the  risk  of  a  barely  saved  situation ;  now  that  situation, 
with  its  merely  social  complications,  had  become  a  mat- 
ter of  small  importance. 

His  long  striding  steps  had  carried  him  to  the  fire- 
place, and  his  back  was  towards  the  door  when  at  last 
the  handle  turned.  He  wheeled  around  to  receive  Eve's 
message ;  then  a  look  of  pleased  surprise  crossed  his  face. 
It  was  Eve  herself  who  stood  in  the  doorway. 

Without  hesitation,  his  lips  parted. 

"  Eve !  "  he  said  abruptly,  "  I  have  great  news !  Rus- 
sia has  shown  her  teeth  at  last.  Two  caravans  belonging 
to  a  British  trader  were  yesterday  interfered  with  by  a 
band  of  Cossacks.  The  affair  occurred  a  couple  of  miles 
outside  Meshed.  The  traders  remonstrated ;  but  the  Rus- 
sians made  summary  use  of  their  advantage.  Two  Eng- 
lishmen were  wounded,  and  one  of  them  has  since  died. 
Fraide  has  only  now  received  the  news — which  cannot 
be  overrated.  It  gives  the  precise  lever  necessary  for 
the  big  move  at  the  reassembling."  He  spoke  with  great 
earnestness  and  unusual  haste;  and  as  he  finished,  he 
took  a  step  forward. 

"  But  that  isn't  all !  "  he  added.  "  Fraide  wants  the 
great  move  set  in  motion  by  a  great  speech — and  he  has 
asked  me  to  make  it." 

For  a  moment  Eve  waited.  She  looked  at  him  in  si- 
lence, and  in  that  silence  he  read  in  her  eyes  the  reflec- 
tion of  his  own  thoughts. 

"  And  you  ?  "  she  asked  in  a  suppressed  voice.  "  What 
answer  did  you  give  ?  " 

He  watched  her  for  an  instant,  taking  a  strange  pleas- 
ure in  her  flushed  face  and  brilliantly  eager  eyes;  then 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  179 

the  joy  of  conscious  strength,  the  sense  of  opportunity 
regained,  swept  all  other  considerations  out  of  sight. 

"  I  accepted,"  he  said  quickly.    "  Could  any  man  who 
was  merely  human  have  done  otherwise?  " 


That  was  Loder's  attitude  and  action  on  the  night  of 
his  jeopardy  and  his  success,  and  the  following  day 
found  his  mood  unchanged.  He  was  one  of  those  rare 
individuals  who  never  give  a  promise  overnight  to  regret 
it  in  the  morning.  He  was  slow  to  move;  but  when  he 
did,  the  movement  brushed  all  obstacles  aside.  In  the 
first  days  of  his  usurpation  he  had  gone  cautiously — half 
fascinated,  half  distrustful ;  then  the  reality,  the  ex- 
traordinary tangibility  of  the  position  had  gripped  him, 
when,  matching  himself  for  the  first  time  with  men  of  his 
own  caliber,  he  had  learned  his  real  weight  on  the  day 
of  his  protest  against  the  Easter  adjournment.  With 
that  knowledge  had  been  born  the  dominant  factor  in 
his  whole  scheme — the  overwhelming,  insistent  desire  to 
manifest  his  power, — that  desire  that  is  the  salvation  or 
the  ruin  of  every  strong  man  who  has  once  realized  his 
strength.  Supremacy  was  the  note  to  which  his  ambition 
reached.  To  trample  out  Chilcote's  footmarks  with  his 
own  had  been  his  tacit  instinct  from  the  first;  now  that 
instinct  rose  paramount.  It  was  the  whole  theory  of  cre- 
ation— this  survival  of  the  fittest — this  deep  egotistical 
certainly  that  he  was  the  better  man. 

It  was  with  this  conviction  that  he  entered  on  the  vital 
period  of  his  dual  career.  The  imminent  political  crisis, 
and  his  personal  share  in  it,  absorbed  him  absolutely. 
In  the  weeks  that  followed  his  answer  to  Fraide's  pro- 
posal, he  gave  himself  ungrudgingly  to  his  work.  He 
wrote,  read,  and  planned  with  tireless  energy;  he  fre- 
quently forgot  to  eat;  and  he  slept  only  through  sheer 
exhaustion.  In  the  fullest  sense  of  the  word  he  lived  for 
the  culminating  hour  that  was  to  bring  him  failure  or 
success. 

He  seldom  left  Grosvenor  Square  in  the  days  that  fol- 
lowed, except  to  confer  with  his  party.  All  his  interest 


180  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

— all  his  relaxation — lay  in  his  work  and  what  per- 
tained to  it.  His  strength  was  like  a  solid  wall,  his  in- 
telligence was  as  sharp  and  keen  as  steel.  The  moment 
was  his,  and  by  sheer  mastery  of  will  he  put  other  con- 
siderations out  of  sight.  He  forgot  Chilcote  and  for- 
got Lillian — not  because  they  escaped  his  memory,  but 
because  he  chose  to  shut  them  from  it. 

Of  Eve,  he  saw  but  little  in  this  time  of  high  pres- 
sure. When  a  man  touches  the  core  of  his  capacities — 
puts  his  best  into  the  work  that  in  his  eyes  stands  para- 
mount— there  is  little  place  for,  and  no  need  of  woman. 
She  comes  before — and  after.  She  inspires,  compensates 
or  completes ;  but  the  achievement,  the  creation,  is  man's 
alone.  And  all  true  women  understand  and  yield  to  this 
unspoken  precept. 

Eve  watched  the  progress  of  his  labor;  and  in  the 
depth  of  her  own  heart  the  watching  came  nearer  to 
actual  living  than  any  activity  she  had  known.  She  was 
an  onlooker — but  an  onlooker  who  stood,  as  it  were,  on 
the  steps  of  the  arena ;  one  who,  by  a  single  forward 
movement,  could  feel  the  sand  under  her  feet,  the  breath 
of  the  battle  on  her  face. 

There  were  hours  when  Loder  seemed  scarcely  con- 
scious of  her  existence ;  but  this  never  troubled  her.  She 
knew  that  before  the  afternoon  of  each  day  had  passed 
he  would  come  into  her  sitting-room — his  face  thought- 
ful, his  hands  full  of  books  or  papers — and  dropping 
into  one  of  the  comfortable,  studious  chairs,  would  ask 
laconically  for  tea.  This  was  her  moment  of  triumph 
and  recompense,  for  the  very  unconsciousness  of  his  com- 
ing doubled  its  value.  He  would  sit  for  half  an  hour 
with  a  preoccupied  glance,  or  possibly  with  keen  alert 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  fire,  while  his  ideas  sorted  them- 
selves and  fell  into  line.  Sometimes  he  was  silent  for 
the  whole  half  hour,  and  sometimes  he  commented  to 
himself  as  he  scanned  his  notes ;  but  on  other  and  rarer 
occasions  he  talked — speaking  his  thoughts  and  his  the- 
ories aloud  with  the  enjoyment  of  a  man  who  knows 
himself  fully  in  his  depth — while  Eve  sipped  her  tea,  or 
stitched  peacefully  at  a  strip  of  embroidery. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  181 

On  these  occasions  she  made  a  perfect  listener.  Here 
and  there  she  encouraged  him  with  an  intelligent  remark, 
but  she  never  interrupted.  She  knew  when  to  be  silent 
and  when  to  speak ;  when  to  merge  her  own  individual- 
ity and  when  to  make  it  felt.  In  these  days  of  stress  and 
preparation  he  came  to  her  unconsciously  for  rest;  he 
treated  her  as  he  might  have  treated  a  younger  brother, 
relying  on  her  discretion,  turning  to  her  as  if  by  right 
for  sympathy,  comprehension  and  friendship.  Some- 
times, as  they  sat  silent  in  the  richly  colored,  homelike 
room,  Eve  would  pause  over  her  stitching,  and  let  her 
thoughts  spin  momentarily  forward  towards  the  point 
where — the  brunt  of  his  ordeal  passed — he  must  of  ne- 
cessity seek  something  beyond  mere  rest.  But  there 
her  thoughts  would  inevitably  break  off,  and  the  blood 
flame  quickly  into  her  cheeks. 

Meanwhile  Loder  worked  persistently.  With  each 
day  that  brought  the  crisis  of  Fraide's  scheme  nearer, 
his  activity  increased,  and,  with  it,  the  nervous  strain  of 
the  situation.  For  if  he  had  his  hours  of  exaltation, 
he  also  had  his  hours  of  black  apprehension.  It  is  all 
very  well  to  exorcise  a  ghost  by  sheer  strength  of  will, 
but  one  has  also  to  eliminate  the  idea  that  gave  it  exis- 
tence. Lillian  Astrupp  with  her  unattested  evidence 
and  her  ephemeral  interest  gave  him  no  real  uneasiness ; 
but  Chilcote,  and  Chilcote's  possible  summons,  were 
matters  of  graver  consideration ;  and  there  were  times 
when  they  loomed  very  dark  and  sinister.  What,  he 
would  sometimes  ask  himself,  if  at  the  moment  of  ful- 
filment  ?  But  there  he  invariably  snapped  the  thread 

of  his  supposition,  and  turned  with  fiercer  ardor  to  his 
work  of  preparation. 

And  so  the  last  morning  of  his  probation  dawned, 
and  for  the  first  time  he  breathed  freely. 

He  rose  early  on  the  day  that  was  to  witness  his  great 
effort  and  dressed  slowly.  It  was  a  splendid  morning; 
the  spirit  of  the  spring  seemed  embodied  in  the  air,  in 
the  pale  blue  sky,  in  the  shafts  of  cool  sunshine  that 
danced  from  the  mirror  to  the  dressing-table  and  from 
the  dressing-table  to  the  pictures  in  Chilcote's  vast  room. 


182  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Inconsequently,  with  its  dancing,  there  rose  to  Loder's 
mind  a  memory  of  the  distant  past — a  memory  of  long- 
forgotten  days  when,  as  a  child,  he  had  been  bidden  to 
watch  the  same  sun  perform  the  same  fantastic  evolu- 
tions. The  sight  and  the  thought  stirred  him  with  a 
sense  of  youth.  He  drew  himself  together  with  an 
added  touch  of  decision,  as  he  passed  out  into  the  corri- 
dor, and  as  he  walked  downstairs  he  whistled  a  bar  or  two 
of  an  inspiriting  tune. 

In  the  morning-room  Eve  was  already  waiting.  She 
looked  up,  colored  and  smiled  as  he  entered.  Her  face 
looked  very  fresh  and  young,  and  she  wore  a  gown  of 
the  same  pale  blue  that  she  had  worn  on  his  first  com- 
ing. 

She  had  glanced  up  from  an  open  letter  as  he  came 
into  the  room,  and  the  sun  that  fell  through  the  win- 
dow had  caught  her  in  a  shaft  of  light — intensifying  her 
blue  eyes,  her  blue  gown,  and  the  bunch  of  violets  fast- 
ened in  her  belt.  To  Loder — still  under  the  influence 
of  early  memories — she  seemed  the  embodiment  of  some 
youthful  ideal ;  something  lost,  sought  for,  and  found 
again.  Realization  of  his  true  feeling  for  her  almost 
came  to  him  as  he  stood  there.  It  hovered  about  him ; 
it  tipped  him,  as  it  were,  with  its  wings;  then  it  rose 
again  and  soared  away.  Men  like  him — men  keen  to 
grasp  an  opening  where  their  careers  are  concerned,  and 
tenacious  to  hold  it  when  once  grasped — are  frequently 
the  last  to  see  into  their  own  hearts.  He  looked  at  her 
admiringly ;  he  acknowledged  the  stir  of  his  feeling ;  but 
he  made  no  attempt  to  define  its  cause.  He  could  no 
more  have  given  reason  for  his  sensation  than  he  could 
have  told  the  precise  date  upon  which,  coming  down- 
stairs at  eight  o'clock,  he  had  first  found  her  waiting 
breakfast  for  him.  The  time  when  all  such  incidents 
were  to  stand  out — each  to  a  nicety  in  its  appointed  place 
— had  not  yet  arrived.  For  the  moment,  his  youth  had 
returned  to  him;  he  possessed  the  knowledge  of  work 
done,  the  sense  of  present  companionship  in  a  world  of 
agreeable  things — above  all,  the  steady,  quiet  conviction 
of  his  own  capacity.  All  these  things  came  to  him  in 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  183 

the  moment  of  his  entering  the  room  and  passing  to 
the  breakfast-table.  Then,  while  his  eyes  still  rested 
contentedly  on  the  pleasant  array  of  china  and  silver, 
while  his  senses  were  still  alive  to  the  fresh,  earthy 
scent  of  Eve's  violets,  the  blow  so  long  dreaded,  so  slow 
in  coming,  fell  with  accumulated  force. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

The  blow  fell  in  the  form  of  a  letter  that  lay  awaiting 
him  on  his  plate.  It  was  written  on  cheap  paper  in  a 
disguised  hand,  and  the  contents  covered  only  half  a 
page.  Loder  read  it  slowly,  mentally  articulating  every 
word ;  then  he  laid  it  down,  and  as  he  did  so  he  caught 
Eve's  eyes  raised  in  concern.  Once  again  he  saw  some- 
thing of  his  own  feelings  reflected  in  her  face,  and  the 
shock  braced  him.  He  picked  up  the  letter,  tearing  it 
into  strips. 

"  I  must  go  out,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I  must  go  now 
— at  once."  His  voice  sounded  cold  and  hard. 

Eve's  surprised,  concerned  eyes  searched  his.  "  Now 
— at  once?  "  she  repeated.  "  Now — without  breakfast?  " 

"  Oh !  I'm  not  hungry."  He  rose  from  his  seat,  and 
carrying  the  slips  of  paper  across  the  room  dropped 
them  into  the  fire.  He  did  it,  not  so  much  from  cau- 
tion, as  from  an  imperative  wish  to  do  something — 
to  move,  if  only  across  the  room. 

Eve's  glance  followed  him.  "  Is  it  bad  news  ?  "  she 
asked  anxiously.  It  was  unlike  her  to  be  insistent;  but 
she  was  stirred  to  the  impulse  by  the  peculiarity  of  the 
moment. 

"  No,"  he  said  shortly.  "  It's — business.  This  was 
written  yesterday;  I  should  have  got  it  last  night." 

Her  eyes  widened.  "  But  nobody  does  business  at 

eight  in  the  morning "  she  began  in  astonishment; 

then  she  suddenly  broke  off. 

Without  apology  or  farewell,  Loder  had  left  the  fire- 
place and  passed  through  the  door  into  the  hall. 


184  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

He  stepped  hurriedly  to  the  outer  door,  picking  up  a 
hat  as  he  went;  and  reaching  the  pavement,  he  walked 
briskly  forward  until  Grosvenor  Square  was  left  behind ; 
then  he  ran.  At  the  risk  of  reputation — at  the  loss  of 
dignity — he  ran  until  he  saw  a  cab.  Hailing  it,  he  sprang 
inside;  and  then — as  the  cabman  whipped  up  and  the 
horse  responded  to  the  call — he  realized  for  the  first  time 
the  full  significance  of  what  had  occurred. 

Realization — like  the  need  for  action — came  to  him 
slowly;  but  when  it  came  it  was  with  terrible  lucidity. 
He  did  not  swear  as  he  leant  back  in  his  seat,  mechanic- 
ally watching  the  stream  of  men  on  their  way  to  busi- 
ness, the  belated  cars  of  green  produce  blocking  the  way 
between  the  Strand  and  Covent  Garden.  He  had  no  use 
for  oaths — his  feelings  lay  deeper  than  mere  words. 
But  his  mouth  was  sternly  set  and  his  eyes  looked  cold. 

Outside  the  Law  Courts  he  dismissed  his  cab,  and 
walked  forward  to  Clifford's  Inn.  As  he  passed  through 
the  familiar  entrance  a  chill  fell  upon  him.  In  the  clear 
early  light  it  seemed  more  than  ever  a  place  of  dead 
hopes,  dead  enterprises,  dead  ambitions.  In  the  on- 
ward march  of  life  it  had  been  forgotten.  The  very  air 
had  a  breath  of  unfulfilment. 

He  crossed  the  court  rapidly ;  but  his  mouth  set  itself 
afresh  as  he  passed  through  the  doorway  of  his  own 
house  and  crossed  the  bare  hall. 

As  he  mounted  the  well-known  stairs  he  received  his 
first  indication  of  life  in  the  appearance  of  a  cat  from 
the  second-floor  rooms.  At  sight  of  him  the  animal 
came  forward,  rubbed  demonstratively  against  his  legs, 
and  with  affectionate  persistence,  followed  him  upstairs. 

Outside  his  own  door  he  paused.  On  the  ground  stood 
the  usual  morning  can  of  milk — evidence  that  Chilcote 
was  not  yet  awake ;  or  that,  like  himself,  he  had  no  appe- 
tite for  breakfast.  He  smiled  ironically  as  the  idea 
struck  him,  but  it  was  a  smile  that  stiffened  rather  than 
relaxed  his  lips.  Then  he  drew  out  the  duplicate  key 
that  he  always  carried,  and  inserting  it  quietly,  opened 
the  door. 

A  close  unpleasant  smell  greeted  him  as  he  entere4 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  185 

the  small  passage  that  divided  the  bed  and  sitting-rooms 
— a  smell  of  whisky  mingling  with  the  odor  of  stale 
smoke.  With  a  quick  gesture  he  pushed  open  the  bed- 
room door;  but  on  the  threshold  he  paused — a  look  of 
contempt  and  repulsion  passing  over  his  face. 

At  a  first  glance  he  scarcely  grasped  the  details  of 
the  room,  for  the  half-drawn  curtains  kept  the  light  dim ; 
but  as  his  eyes  grew  accustomed  to  the  obscurity,  he 
gathered  their  significance. 

The  room  had  a  sleepless,  jaded  air — the  room  that 
under  his  own  occupation  had  shown  a  rigid,  almost  a 
monastic  severity.  The  plain  dressing-table  was  littered 
with  cigarette  ends,  and  marked  with  black  and  tawny 
patches  where  the  tobacco  had  been  left  to  burn  itself 
out.  On  one  corner  of  the  table  a  carafe  of  water  and 
a  whisky  decanter  rested  one  against  the  other,  as  if  for 
support ;  and  at  the  other  end  an  overturned  tumbler  lay 
in  a  pool  of  liquid.  The  whole  effect  was  sickly  and 
nauseating.  His  glance  turned  involuntarily  to  the  bed, 
and  there  halted. 

On  the  hard  narrow  mattress,  from  which  the  sheets 
and  blankets  had  fallen  in  a  disordered  heap,  lay  Chil- 
cote.  He  was  fully  dressed  in  a  shabby  tweed  suit  of 
Loder's ;  his  collar  was  open,  his  lip  and  chin  unshaven ; 
one  hand  was  limply  grasping  the  pillow,  while  the  other 
hung  out  over  the  side  of  the  bed.  His  face — pale  and 
almost  earthy  in  hue — might  have  been  a  mask,  save 
for  the  slight  convulsive  spasms  that  crossed  it  from 
time  to  time,  and  corresponded  with  the  faint  shivering 
starts  that  passed  at  intervals  over  his  whole  body.  To 
complete  his  repellant  appearance,  a  lock  of  hair  had 
fallen  loose,  and  lay  black  and  damp  across  his  forehead. 

Loder  stood  for  a  space,  shocked  and  fascinated  by 
the  sight.  Even  in  the  ghastly  disarray,  the  likeness — 
the  extraordinary  sinister  likeness,  that  had  become  the 
pivot  upon  which  he  himself  revolved — struck  him  like 
a  blow.  The  man  who  lay  there  was  himself — bound  to 
him  by  some  subtle,  inexplicable  tie  of  similarity.  As 
the  idea  touched  him,  he  turned  aside  and  stepped 
quickly  to  the  dressing-table :  there,  with  an  unneces- 


186  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OK, 

sary  energy,  he  flung  back  the  curtains  and  threw  the 
window  wide;  then  again  he  turned  towards  the  bed. 
He  had  one  dominant  impulse, — to  waken  Chilcote — to 
be  free  of  the  repulsive  inert  presence  that  chilled  him 
with  so  personal  a  horror.  Leaning  over  the  bed,  he 
caught  the  shoulder  nearest  to  him  and  shook  it.  It 
was  not  the  moment  for  niceties,  and  his  gesture  was 
rough. 

At  his  first  touch  Chilcote  made  no  response;  his 
brain — dulled  by  indulgence  in  his  vice — had  become  a 
laggard  in  conveying  sensations ;  but  at  last,  as  the  pres- 
sure on  his  shoulder  increased,  his  nervous  system 
seemed  suddenly  to  jar  into  consciousness.  A  long  shud- 
der shook  him ;  he  half  lifted  himself,  and  then  dropped 
back  upon  the  pillow. 

"  Oh !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  trembling  breath.  "  Oh !  " 
The  sound  seemed  drawn  from  him  by  compulsion. 

Its  uncanny  tone  chilled  Loder  anew. 

"  Wake  up,  man !  "  he  said  suddenly.  "  Wake  up ! 
It's  I— Loder." 

Again  the  other  shuddered ;  and  turning,  stared  at  his 
visitor. 

"Loder?"  he  said  doubtfully.  "Loder?"  Then 
his  face  changed.  "  Good  God !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What 
a  relief!" 

The  words  were  so  intense,  so  spontaneous  and  unex- 
pected, that  Loder  took  a  step  back. 

Chilcote  laughed  discordantly,  and  lifted  a  shaky  hand 
to  protect  his  eyes  from  the  light. 

"  It's— it's  all  right,  Loder !  It's  all  right !  It's  only 
that  I — that  I  had  a  beastly  dream.  But  for  Heaven's 
sake,  man,  shut  that  window !  "  He  shivered  involun- 
tarily, and  pushed  the  lock  of  damp  hair  from  his  fore- 
head with  a  weak  touch  of  his  old  irritability. 

In  silence  Loder  moved  back  to  the  window  and  shut  it. 
He  was  affected  more  than  he  would  own  even  to  him- 
self by  the  obvious  change  in  Chilcote.  He  had  seen  him 
moody,  restless,  nervbusly  excited,  but  never  before  had 
he  seen  him  entirely  demoralized.  With  a  dull  feeling  of 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  187 

impotence  and  disgust  he  stood  by  the  closed  window, 
looking  unseeingly  at  the  roofs  of  the  opposite  houses. 

But  Chilcote  had  followed  his  movements  restlessly; 
and  now,  as  he  watched  him  pause,  a  flicker  of  excite- 
ment crossed  his  face. 

"  God !  Loder,"  he  said  again,  "  'twas  a  relief  to  see 
you !  I  dreamt  I  was  in  hell — a  horrible  hell,  worse  than 
the  one  they  preach  about "  He  laughed  to  reas- 
sure himself,  but  his  voice  shook  pitiably. 

Loder,  who  had  come  to  fight,  stood  silent  and  inert. 

"  It  was  horrible — beastly,"  Chilcote  went  on.  "  There 
was  no  fire  and  brimstone,  but  there  was  something  worse. 
It  was  a  great  ironic  scheme  of  punishment,  by  which 
every  man.  was  chained  to  his  own  vice — by  which  the 
thing  he  had  gone  to  pieces  over,  instead  of  being  de- 
nied him,  was  made  compulsory !  You  can't  imagine  it." 
He  shivered  nervously,  and  his  voice  rose.  "  Fancy  being 
satiated  beyond  the  limit  of  satiety!  Being  driven  and 
dogged  by  the  thing  you  had  run  after  all  your  life ! " 

He  paused  excitedly,  and  in  the  pause  Loder  found 
resolution.  He  shut  his  eyes  to  the  panic  in  Chilcote's 
voice;  he  closed  his  consciousness  to  the  sight  of  his 
shaken  face.  With  a  surge  of  determination  he  rallied 
his  theories.  After  all,  he  had  himself  and  his  own  in- 
terests to  claim  his  thought.  At  the  moment,  Chilcote 
was  a  wreck  with  no  desire  towards  rehabilitation,  but 
there  was  no  guarantee  that  in  an  hour  he  might  not 
have  regained  control  over  himself,  and  with  it  the  inclina- 
tion that  had  prompted  his  letter  of  the  day  before.  No ; 
he  had  himself  to  look  to.  The  survival  of  the  fittest 
was  the  true,  the  only  principle.  Chilcote  had  had  intel- 
lect, education,  opportunity,  and  Chilcote  had  deliberately 
cast  them  all  aside.  Fortifying  himself  in  the  knowledge, 
he  turned  from  the  window  and  moved  slowly  back  to  the 
bed. 

"  Look  here ! "  he  began.  "  You  wrote  for  me  last 
night "  His  voice  was  hard.  He  had  come  to  fight. 

Chilcote  glanced  up  quickly.  His  mouth  was  drawn, 
and  there  was  a  new  anxiety  in  his  eyes, 


188  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  Loder !  "  he  exclaimed  quickly.  "  Loder,  come  here ! 
Come  nearer ! " 

Reluctantly  Loder  obeyed.  Stepping  closer  to  the  bed, 
he  bent  down. 

The  other  put  up  his  hand  and  caught  his  arm.  His 
fingers  trembled  and  jerked. 

"  I  say,  Loder,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  I — I've  had  such 
a  beastly  night — my  nerves — you  know " 

With  a  quick  involuntary  disgust  Loder  drew  back. 

"  Don't  you  think  we  might  shove  that  aside  ? "  he 
asked. 

But  Chilcote's  gaze  had  wandered  from  his  face  and 
strayed  to  the  dressing-table;  there  it  moved  feverishly 
from  one  object  to  another. 

"  Loder !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  do  you  see — can  you  see  if 
there's  a  tube  of  tabloids  on  the  mantel-shelf — or  on  the 
dressing-table  ? "  He  lifted  himself  nervously  on  his 
elbow,  and  his  eyes  wandered  uneasily  about  the  room. 
"  I — I  had  a  beastly  night ;  my  nerves  are  horribly  jarred, 
and  I  thought — I  think "  He  stopped. 

With  his  increasing  consciousness,  his  nervous  collapse 
became  more  marked.  At  the  first  moment  of  waking, 
the  relief  of  an  unexpected  presence  had  surmounted 
everything  else;  but  now,  as  one  by  one  his  faculties 
stirred,  his  wretched  condition  became  patent.  With  a 
new  sense  of  perturbation,  Loder  made  his  next  attack. 

"  Chilcote "  he  began  sternly. 

But  again  Chilcote  caught  his  arm,  plucking  at  the 
coat-sleeve. 

"  Where  is  it  ?  "  he  said.  "  Where  is  the  tube  of  tab- 
loids— the  sedative?  I'm — I'm  obliged  to  take  some- 
thing when  my  nerves  go  wrong."  In  his  weakness  and 
nervous  tremor,  he  forgot  that  Loder  was  the  sharer  of 
his  secret.  Even  in  his  extremity,  his  fear  of  detection 
clung  to  him  limply;  the  lies  that  had  become  second 
nature  slipped  from  him  without  effort.  Then  suddenly 
a  fresh  panic  seized  him — his  fingers  tightened  spasmod- 
ically, his  eyes  ceased  to  rove  about  the  room,  and  set- 
tjed  on  his  companion's  face. 

-"  Can  you  see  it,  Loder  ?  "  he  cried.     "  I  can't — the 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  189 

light's  in  my  eyes.  Can  you  see  it?  Can  you  see  the 
tube  ? "  He  lifted  himself  higher,  an  agony  of  appre- 
hension in  his  face. 

Loder  pushed  him  back  upon  the  pillow.  He  was 
striving  hard  to  keep  his  own  mind  cool — to  steer  his 
own  course  through  the  chaos  that  confronted  him. 

"  Chilcote,"  he  began  once  more,  "  you  sent  for  me 
last  night,  and  I  have  come  the  first  thing  this  morning 
to  tell  you " 

With  an  excitement  that  lent  him  strength,  Chilcote 
pushed  aside  his  hands. 

"  God !  "  he  said  suddenly,  "  suppose  'twas  lost — sup- 
pose 'twas  gone ! "  The  imaginary  possibility  gripped 
him.  He  sat  up,  his  face  livid,  drops  of  perspiration 
showing  on  his  forehead,  his  whole  shattered  system  trem- 
bling before  his  thought. 

At  the  sight  Loder  set  his  lips.  "  The  tube  is  on  the 
mantel-shelf,"  he  said  in  a  cold,  abrupt  voice. 

A  groan  of  relief  fell  from  Chilcote,  and  the  mus- 
cles of  his  face  relaxed.  For  a  moment  he  lay  back  with 
closed  eyes ;  then  the  desire  that  tortured  him  stirred 
afresh.  He  lifted  his  eyelids  and  looked  at  his  com- 
panion. 

"  Hand  it  to  me,"  he  said  quickly.  "  Give  it  to  me. 
Give  it  to  me,  Loder.  Quick  as  you  can !  There's  a  glass 
on  the  table  and  some  whisky-and-water.  The  tabloids 

dissolve,  you  know "  In  his  new  excitement  he  held 

out  his  hand. 

But  Loder  stayed  motionless.  He  had  come  to  fight — 
to  demand — to  plead,  if  need  be,  for  his  one  hour;  .the 
hour  that  was  to  justify  all  labor,  all  endeavor,  all  ambi- 
tion. With  dogged  persistence  he  made  one  more  essay. 

"  Chilcote,  you  wrote  last  night  to  recall  me "  But 

once  again  he  paused,  checked  by  a  new  interruption.  Sit- 
ting up  again,  Chilcote  struck  out  suddenly  with  his  left 
hand  in  a  rush  of  his  old  irritability. 

"  Damn  you ! "  he  cried  suddenly,  "  what  are  you 
talking  about  ?  Look  at  me !  Get  me  the  stuff ;  I  tell 
you  it's  imperative !  "  In  his  excitement  his  breath  failed 


190  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

and  he  coughed.  At  the  effort  his  whole  frame  was 
shaken. 

Loder  walked  to  the  dressing-table,  then  back  to  the 
bed.  A  deep  agitation  was  at  work  within  his  mind. 

Again  Chilcote's  lips  parted.  "  Loder,"  he  said  faintly 
but  excitedly.  "  Loder,  I  must — I  must  have  it.  It's 
imperative."  Once  more  he  attempted  to  lift  himself, 
but  the  effort  was  futile. 

Again  Loder  turned  away. 

"  Loder— for  God's  sake " 

With  a  fierce  gesture  the  other  turned  on  him. 

"  Good  heavens,  man "  he  began.  Then  unaccount- 
ably his  voice  changed.  The  suggestion  that  had  been 
hovering  in  his  own  mind  took  sudden  and  definite  shape. 

"  All  right !  "  he  said  in  a  lower  voice.  "  All  right ! 
Stay  as  you  are." 

He  crossed  to  where  the  empty  tumbler  stood,  and 
hastily  mixed  the  whisky-and-water ;  then  crossing  to  the 
mantelpiece  where  lay  the  small  glass  tube  containing  the 
tabloids,  he  paused  and  glanced  once  more  towards  the 
bed. 

"  How  many?"  he  said  laconically. 

Chilcote  lifted  his  head.  His  face  was  pitiably  drawn, 
but  the  feverish  brightness  in  his  eves  had  increased. 

"  Five,"  he  said  sharply.    "  Five/' 

"  Five  ?  "  Involuntarily  Loder  lowered  the  hand  that 
held  the  tube.  From  previous  confidences  of  Chilcote's, 
he  knew  the  amount  of  morphia  contained  in  each  tab- 
loid ;  and  he  realized  that  five  tabloids,  if  not  an  abso- 
lutely dangerous,  was  at  least  an  excessive  dose,  even  for 
one  accustomed  to  the  drug.  For  a  moment  his  resolu- 
tion failed ;  then  the  dominant  note  of  his  nature — the 
unconscious,  fundamental  egotism  on  which  his  character 
was  based — asserted  itself  beyond  denial.  It  might  be 
reprehensible,  it  might  even  be  criminal,  to  accede  to  such 
a  request,  made  by  a  man  in  such  a  condition  of  body 
and  mind.  Yet  the  laws  of  the  universe  demand  self- 
assertion — prompt  every  human  mind  to  desire,  to  grasp 
and  to  hold.  With  a  perception  swifter  than  any  he  had 
experienced,  he  realized  the  certain  respite  to  be  gained 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  l9l 

by  yielding  to  his  impulse.  He  looked  at  Chilcote,  with 
his  haggard,  anxious  expression,  his  eager,  restless  eyes ; 
and  a  vision  of  himself  followed  sharp  upon  the  glance, 
— a  vision  of  the  untiring  labor  of  the  past  ten  days — 
of  the  slowly  kindling  ambition — of  the  supremacy  all  but 
gained.  As  the  picture  completed  itself,  he  lifted  his 
hand  with  an  abrupt  movement  and  dropped  the  five  tab- 
loids one  after  another  into  the  glass. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

Having  taken  a  definite  step  in  any  direction,  it  was 
not  in  Loder's  nature  to  wish  it  retraced.  His  face  was 
set,  but  set  with  determination,  when  he  closed  the  outer 
door  of  his  own  rooms  and  passed  quietly  down  the  stairs 
and  out  into  the  silent  court.  The  thought  of  Chilcote, 
his  pitiable  condition,  his  sordid  environments,  were 
things  that  required  a  firm  will  to  drive  into  the  back- 
ground of  the  imagination ;  but  a  whole  inferno  of  such 
visions  would  not  have  daunted  him  on  that  morning  as, 
unobserved  by  any  eyes,  he  left  the  little  courtyard  with 
its  grass,  its  trees,  its  pavement — all  so  distastefully 
familiar — and  passed  down  the  Strand  towards  life  and 
action. 

As  he  walked,  his  steps  increased  in  speed  and  vigor. 
Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  fully  appreciated  the  great 
mental  strain  that  he  had  undergone  in  the  past  ten 
days, — the  unnatural  tension,  the  suppressed,  but  perpet- 
ual sense  of  impending  recall,  the  consequently  high  pres- 
sure at  which  work,  and  even  existence,  had  been  carried 
on.  And  as  he  hurried  forward,  the  natural  reaction  to 
this  state  of  things  came  upon  him  in  a  flood  of  security 
and  confidence — a  strong  realization  of  the  temporary  re- 
spite and  freedom  for  which  no  price  would  have  seemed 
too  high.  The  moment  for  which  he  had  unconsciously 
lived  ever  since  Chilcote's  first  memorable  proposition, 
was  within  reach  at  last — safeguarded  by  his  own  action. 

The  walk  from  Clifford's  Inn  to  Grosvenor  Square  was 


192  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

long  enough  to  dispel  any  excitement  that  his  interview 
had  aroused ;  and  long  before  the  well-known  house  came 
into  view,  he  felt  sufficiently  braced  mentally  and  physi- 
cally to  seek  Eve  in  the  morning-room — where  he  instinc- 
tively felt  she  would  still  be  waiting  for  him. 

Thus  he  encountered  and  overpassed  the  obstacle  that 
had  so  nearly  threatened  ruin ;  and  with  the  singleness  of 
purpose  that  always  distinguished  him,  he  was  able,  once 
having  passed  it,  to  dismiss  it  altogether  from  his  mind. 
From  the  moment  of  his  return  to  Chilcote's  house  no 
misgiving  as  to  his  own  action,  no  shadow  of  doubt,  rose 
to  trouble  his  mind.  His  feelings  on  the  matter  were 
quite  simple.  He  had  inordinately  desired  a  certain  op- 
portunity; one  factor  had  arisen  to  debar  that  opportun- 
ity; and  he,  claiming  the  right  of  strength,  had  set  the 
barrier  aside.  In  the  simplicity  of  the  reasoning  lay  its 
power  to  convince ;  and  were  a  tonic  needed  to  brace  him 
for  his  task,  he  was  provided  with  one  in  the  masterful 
sense  of  a  difficulty  set  at  naught.  For  the  man  who 
has  fought  and  conquered  one  obstacle  feels  strong  to 
vanquish  a  score. 

It  was  on  this  day  at  the  reassembling  of  Parliament 
that  Fraide's  great  blow  was  to  be  struck.  In  the  ten 
days  since  the  affair  of  the  caravans  had  been  reported 
from  Persia  public  feeling  had  run  high,  and  it  was  upon 
the  pivot  of  this  incident  that  Loder's  attack  was  to  turn ; 
for,  as  Lakeley  was  fond  of  remarking,  "  In  the  scales 
of  public  opinion,  one  dead  Englishman  has  more  weight 
than  the  whole  Eastern  Question ! "  It  had  been  ar- 
ranged that,  following  the  customary  procedure,  Loder 
was  to  rise  after  questions  at  the  morning  sitting,  and 
ask  leave  to  move  the  adjournment  of  the  House  "  on  a 
definite  matter  of  urgent  public  importance  " — namely, 
the  perilous  position  of  English  subjects  in  the  district  of 
Meshed ;  and  by  this  means — leave  having  been  granted 
in  the  rising  of  forty  supporters — the  way  was  to  lie 
clear  for  his  moving  of  the  motion  at  the  evening  sitting. 
With  his  mind  attuned  to  this  programme,  he  retired  to 
the  study  immediately  he  had  breakfasted,  and  settled 
to  a  final  revision  of  his  speech  before  an  early  party 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  193 

conference  should  compel  him  to  leave  the  house.  But 
here  again  circumstances  were  destined  to  change  his 
programme.  Scarcely  had  he  sorted  his  notes  and  drawn 
his  chair  to  Chilcote's  desk  than  Renwick  entered  the 
room  with  the  same  air  of  important  haste  that  he  had 
shown  on  a  previous  occasion. 

"  A  letter  from  Mr.  Fraide,  sir.  But  there's  no  an- 
swer," he  said  with  unusual  brevity. 

Loder  waited  until  he  had  left  the  room,  then  he  tore 
the  letter  open. 

"  MY  DEAR  CHILCOTE,"  he  read,  "  Lakeley  is  the  recip- 
ient of  special  and  very  vital  news  from  Meshed — unof- 
ficial, but  none  the  less  alarming.  Acts  of  Russian  ag- 
gression towards  British  traders  are  reported  to  be  rap- 
idly increasing,  and  it  is  stated  that  the  authority  of  the 
Consulate  is  treated  with  contempt.  Pending  a  possible 
confirmation  of  this,  I  would  suggest  that  you  keep  an 
open  mind  on  the  subject  of  to-night's,  speech.  By  main- 
taining an  expectant — even  a  partially  unprepared — atti- 
tude, you  may  find  your  hand  materially  strengthened. 
I  shall  put  my  opinions  before  you  more  explicitly  when 
we  meet. — Yours  faithfully, 

"  HERBERT  FRAIDE." 

The  letter,  worded  with  Fraide's  usual  restraint,  made 
a  strong  impression  on  its  recipient.  The  thought  that 
his  speech  might  not  only  express  opinions  already  tac- 
itly held,  but  voice  a  situation  of  intense  and  national 
importance,  struck  him  with  full  force.  For  many  min- 
utes after  he  had  grasped  the  meaning  of  Fraide's  mes- 
sage he  sat  neglectful  of  his  notes,  his  elbows  resting  on 
the  desk,  his  face  between  his  hands,  stirred  by  the 
suggestion  that  here  might  lie  a  greater  opportunity 
than  any  he  had  anticipated. 

Still  moved  by  this  new  suggestion,  he  attended  the 
party  conclave  that  Fraide  had  convened,  and  afterwards 
lunched  with  and  accompanied  his  leader  to  the  House. 
They  spoke  very  little  as  they  drove  to  Westminster, 
for  each  was  engrossed  by  his  own  thoughts,  Qnly 


194  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

once  did  Fraide  allude  to  the  incident  that  was  para- 
mount in  both  their  minds.  Then,  turning  to  Loder  with 
a  smile  of  encouragement,  he  laid  his  fingers  for  an 
instant  en  his  arm. 

"  Chilcote,"  he  said,  "  when  the  time  comes,  remem- 
ber you  have  all  my  confidence." 

Looking  back  upon  that  day,  Loder  often  wondered 
at  the  calmness  with  which  he  bore  the  suspense  of  his 
position.  To  sit  apparently  unmoved,  and  wait  without 
emotion  for  news  that  might  change  the  whole  tenor  of 
his  action,  would  have  tried  the  stoicism  of  the  most 
experienced;  to  the  novice  it  was  wellnigh  unendurable. 
And  it  was  under  these  conditions,  and  fighting  against 
these  odds,  that  he  sat  through  the  long  afternoon  in 
Chilcote's  place,  obeying  the  dictates  of  his  chief.  But 
if  the  day  was  fraught  with  difficulties  for  him,  it  was 
fraught  with  dullness  and  disappointment  for  others ;  for 
the  undercurrent  of  interest  that  had  stirred  at  the  Eas- 
ter adjournment,  and  had  risen  with  added  force  on  this 
first  day  of  the  new  session,  was  gradually  but  surely 
threatened  with  extinction,  as  hour  after  hour  passed, 
bringing  no  suggestion  of  the  battle  that  had  on  every 
side  been  tacitly  expected.  Slowly  and  unmistakably 
speculation  and  dissatisfaction  crept  into  the  atmosphere 
of  the  House,  as  moment  succeeded  moment,  and  the 
Opposition  made  no  sign.  Was  Fraide  shirking  the  at- 
tack? Or  was  he  playing  a  waiting  game?  Again  and 
again  the  question  arose,  filling  the  air  with  a  passing 
flicker  of  interest ;  but  each  time  it  sprang  up  only  to  die 
down  again,  as  the  ordinary  business  of  the  day  dragged 
itself  out. 

Gradually,  as  the  afternoon  wore  on,  daylight  began 
to  fade.  Loder,  sitting  rigidly  in  Chilcote's  place,  watched 
with  suppressed  inquiry  the  faces  of  the  men  who  en- 
tered through  the  constantly  swinging  doors ;  but  not  one 
face,  so  eagerly  scanned,  carried  the  message  for  which 
he  waited.  Monotonously  and  mechanically  time  passed. 
The  Government,  adopting  a  neutral  attitude,  carefully 
skirted  all  dangerous  subjects ;  while  the  Opposition,  act- 
ing under  Frame's  suggestion,  assisted  rather  than  bin- 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  195 

dered  the  programme  of  postponement.  For  the  moment, 
the  eagerly  anticipated  reassembling  threatened  dismal 
failure ;  and  it  was  with  a  universal  movement  of  weari- 
ness and  relief  that  at  last  the  House  rose  to  dine. 

But  there  are  no  possibilities  so  elastic  as  those  of 
politics.  At  half-past  seven  the  House  rose  in  a  spirit 
of  boredom  and  disappointment ;  and  at  eight  o'clock  the 
Lobbies,  the  dining-room,  the  entire  space  of  the  vast 
building,  was  stirred  into  activity  by  the  arrival  of  a 
single  telegraphic  message. 

The  new  development  for  which  Fraide  had  waited 
came  indeed ;  but  it  came  with  a  force  he  had  little  antici- 
pated. With  a  thrill  of  awe  and  consternation  men 
heard  and  repeated  the  astounding  news  that — while 
personally  exercising  his  authority  on  behalf  of  British 
traders — Sir  William  Brice-Field,  Consul-General  at 
Meshed,  had  been  fired  at  by  a  Russian  officer  and  in- 
stantly killed. 

The  interval  immediately  following  the  receipt  of  this 
news  was  too  confused  for  detailed  remembrance.  Two 
impressions  made  themselves  slowly  felt, — a  deep  horror 
that  such  an  event  could  obtrude  itself  upon  our  high 
civilization,  and  a  strong  personal  dismay  that  so  hon- 
ored, distinguished  and  esteemed  a  representative  as  Sir 
William  Brice-Field  could  have  been  allowed  to  meet 
death  in  so  terrible  a  manner. 

And  it  was  in  the  consciousness  of  this  feeling — the 
consciousness  that,  in  his  own  person,  he  might  voice, 
not  only  the  feelings  of  his  party,  but  those  of  the 
whole  country — that  Loder  rose  an  hour  later  to  make 
his  long  anticipated  attack. 

He  stood  silent  for  a  moment,  as  he  had  done  on  an 
earlier  occasion ;  but  this  time  his  motive  was  a  different 
one.  Roused  beyond  any  feeling  of  self-consciousness, 
he  waited  as  by  right  for  the  full  attention  of  the  House ; 
then  quietly  but  with  marked  self-confidence,  he  moved 
the  motion  for  adjournment. 

Like  a  match  to  a  train  of  powder,  the  words  set 
flame  to  the  excitement  that  had  smouldered  for  weeks; 
and  in  an  atmosphere  of  stirring  activity,  a  scene  of 


196  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

such  tense  and  vital  concentration  as  the  House  has 
rarely  witnessed,  he  found  inspiration  for  his  great 
achievement. 

To  give  Loder's  speech  in  mere  words  would  be  little 
short  of  futile.  The  gift  of  oratory  is  too  illusive,  too 
much  a  matter  of  eye  and  voice  and  individuality,  to 
allow  of  cold  reproduction.  To  those  who  heard  him 
speak  on  that  night  of  April  the  eighteenth,  the  speech 
will  require  no  recalling;  and  to  those  who  did  not  hear 
him,  there  would  be  no  substitute  in  bare  reproduction. 

In  the  moment  of  action  it  mattered  nothing  to  him 
that  his  previous  preparations  were  to  a  great  extent 
rendered  useless  by  this  news  that  had  come  with  such 
paralyzing  effect.  In  the  sweeping  consciousness  of  his 
own  ability,  he  found  added  joy  in  the  freedom  it  opened 
up.  He  ceased  to  consider  that  by  Fate  he  was  a  Con- 
servative, bound  by  traditional  conventionalities :  in  that 
great  moment  he  knew  himself  sufficiently  a  man  to 
exercise  whatever  individuality  instinct  prompted.  He 
forgot  the  didactic  methods  by  which  he  had  proposed 
to  show  knowledge  of  his  subject — both  as  a  past  and  a 
future  factor  in  European  politics.  With  his  own  strong 
appreciation  of  present  things,  he  saw  and  grasped  the 
vast  present  interest  lying  beneath  his  hand. 

For  fifty  minutes  he  held  the  interest  of  the  House, 
speaking  insistently,  fearlessly,  commandingly  on  the 
immediate  need  of  action.  He  unhesitatingly  pointed  out 
that  the  news  which  had  just  reached  England  was  not 
so  much  an  appalling  fact  as  a  sinister  warning  to  those 
in  whose  keeping  lay  the  safety  of  the  country's  inter- 
ests. Lastly,  with  a  fine  touch  of  eloquence,  he  paid 
tribute  to  the  steadfast  fidelity  of  such  men  as  Sir  Will- 
iam Brice-Field  who,  whatever  political  complications 
arise  at  home,  pursue  their  duty  unswervingly  on  the 
outposts  of  the  Empire. 

At  his  last  words  there  was  silence — the  silence  that 
marks  a  genuine  effect — then  all  at  once,  with  vehement, 
impressive  force,  the  storm  of  enthusiasm  broke  its 
bounds. 

It  was  one  of  those  stupendous  bursts  of  feeling  that 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  197 

no  etiquette,  no  decorum,  is  powerful  enough  to  quell. 
As  he  resumed  his  seat,  very  pale  but  exalted  as  men 
are  exalted  only  once  or  twice  in  a  lifetime,  it  rose  about 
him — clamorous,  spontaneous,  undeniable.  Near  at  hand, 
were  the  faces  of  his  party,  excited  and  triumphant; 
across  the  House,  were  the  faces  of  Sefborough  and  his 
Ministry,  uncomfortable  and  disturbed. 

The  tumult  swelled,  then  fell  away ;  and  in  the  partial 
lull  that  followed,  Fraide  leant  over  the  back  of  his  seat. 
His  quiet  dignified  expression  was  unaltered,  but  his  eyes 
were  intensely  bright. 

"  Chilcote,"  he  whispered,  "  I  don't  congratulate  you 
— or  myself.  I  congratulate  the  country  on  possessing  a 
great  man ! " 

The  remaining  features  of  the  debate  followed  quickly 
one  upon  the  other ;  the  electric  atmosphere  of  the  House 
possessed  a  strong  incentive  power.  Immediately  Lod- 
er's  ovation  had  subsided,  the  Under-Secretary  for  For- 
eign Affairs  rose,  and  in  a  careful  and  non-incriminating 
reply  defended  the  attitude  of  the  Government. 

Next  came  Fraide,  who,  in  one  of  his  rare  and  pol- 
ished speeches,  touched  with  much  feeling  upon  his  per- 
sonal grief  at  the  news  reported  from  Persia,  and  made 
emphatic  indorsement  of  Loder's  words. 

Following  Fraide,  came  one  or  two  dissentient  Lib- 
erals, and  then  Sefborough  himself  closed  the  debate. 
His  speech  was  masterly  and  fluent ;  but  though  any  dis- 
quietude he  may  have  felt  was  well  disguised  under  a 
tone  of  reassuring  ease,  the  attempt  to  rehabilitate  his 
position — already  weakened  in  more  than  one  direction — • 
was  a  task  beyond  his  strength. 

Amid  extraordinary  excitement  the  division  followed 
— and  with  it  a  Government  defeat. 


It  was  not  until  half  an  hour  after  the  votes  had  been 
taken  that  Loder,  freed  at  last  from  persistent  con- 
gratulations, found  opportunity  to  look  for  Eve.  In 
accordance  with  a  promise  made  that  morning,  he  was  to 


198  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

find  her  waiting  outside  the  Ladies'  Gallery  at  the  close 
of  the  debate. 

Disengaging  himself  from  the  group  of  men  who  had 
surrounded  and  followed  him  down  the  Lobby,  he  dis- 
carded the  lift  and  ran  up  the  narrow  staircase.  Reach- 
ing the  landing,  he  went  forward  hurriedly ;  then,  with 
a  certain  abrupt  movement,  he  paused.  In  the  door- 
way leading  to  the  Gallery  Eve  was  waiting  for  him.  The 
place  was  not  brightly  lighted,  and  she  was  standing  in 
the  shadow ;  but  it  needed  only  a  glance  to  assure  his 
recognition  of  her.  He  could  almost  have  seen  in  the 
the  dark  that  night,  so  vivid  were  his  perceptions.  He 
took  a  step  towards  her,  then  again  he  stopped.  At  a 
second  glance  he  realized  that  her  eyes  were  bright  with 
tears ;  and  it  was  with  the  strangest  sensation  he  had  ever 
experienced  that  the  knowledge  flashed  upon  him.  Here 
also  he  had  struck  the  same  note — the  long-coveted  note 
of  supremacy.  It  had  rung  out  full  and  clear  as  he  stood 
in  Chilcote's  place,  dominating  the  House;  it  had  be- 
sieged him  clamorously  as  he  passed  along  the  Lobbies 
amid  a  sea  of  friendly  hands  and  voices;  now,  in  the 
quiet  of  the  deserted  Gallery,  it  came  home  to  him  with 
deeper  meaning  from  the  eyes  of  Chilcote's  wife. 

Without  a  thought,  he  put  out  his  hands  and  caught 
hers. 

"  I  couldn't  get  away,"  he  said.  "  I'm  afraid  I'm  very 
late." 

With  a  smile  that  scattered  her  tears,  Eve  looked  up. 
"  Are  you  ?  "  she  said,  laughing  a  little.  "  I  don't  know 
what  the  time  is.  I  scarcely  know  whether  it's  night 
or  day." 

Still  holding  her  hands,  he  drew  her  down  the  stairs ; 
but  as  they  reached  the  last  step,  she  released  her  fin- 
gers. 

"  In  the  carriage ! "  she  said  with  another  little  laugh 
of  nervous  happiness. 

At  the  foot  of  the  stairs  he  was  besieged  afresh.  Men 
whose  faces  he  barely  knew  crowded  about  him.  The 
intoxication  of  excitement  was  in  the  air — the  instinct 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  199 

that  a  new  force  had  made  itself  felt,  a  new  epoch  been 
entered  upon,  stirred  prophetically  in  every  mind. 

Passing  through  the  enthusiastic  concourse  of  men, 
they  came  unexpectedly  upon  Fraide  and  Lady  Sarah 
surrounded  by  a  group  of  friends.  The  old  statesman 
came  forward  instantly,  and  taking  Loder's  arm,  walked 
with  him  to  Chilcote's  waiting  brougham.  He  said  little 
as  they  slowly  made  their  way  to  the  carriage,  but  the 
pressure  of  his  fingers  was  tense,  and  an  unwonted  color 
showed  in  his  face.  When  Eve  and  Loder  had  taken 
their  seats,  he  stepped  to  the  edge  of  the  curb.  They 
were  alone  for  the  moment,  and  leaning  close  to  the 
carriage,  he  put  his  hand  through  the  open  window. 
In  silence  he  took  Eve's  fingers  and  held  them  in  a 
long,  affectionate  pressure;  then  he  released  them  and 
took  Loder's  hand. 

"  Good  night,  Chilcote !  "  he  said.  "  You  have  proved 
yourself  worthy  of  her !  Good  night !  "  He  turned 
quickly  and  rejoined  his  waiting  friends.  In  another 
second  the  horses  had  wheeled  round,  and  Eve  and  Loder 
were  carried  swiftly  forward  into  the  darkness. 

In  the  great  moments  of  man's  life,  woman  comes  be- 
fore— and  after.  Some  shadow  of  this  truth  was  in  Eve's 
mind  as  she  lay  back  in  the  corner  of  her  seat  with  closed 
eyes  and  parted  lips.  It  seemed  that  life  came  to  her 
now  for  the  first  time — came  in  the  glad,  proud,  satis- 
fying tide  of  things  accomplished.  This  was  her  hour: 
and  the  recognition  of  it  brought  the  blood  to  her  face 
in  a  sudden  happy  rush.  There  had  been  no  need  to 
precipitate  its  coming;  it  had  been  ordained  from  the 
first.  Whether  she  desired  it  or  no,  whether  she  strove 
to  draw  it  nearer  or  strove  to  ward  it  off,  its  coming 
had  been  inevitable.  She  opened  her  eyes  suddenly  and 
looked  out  into  the  darkness — the  darkness  throbbing 
with  multitudes  of  lives,  all  awaiting,  all  desiring  ful- 
filment. She  was  no  longer  lonely,  no  longer  aloof; 
she  was  kin  with  all  this  pitiful,  admirable,  sinning,  lov- 
ing humanity.  Again  tears  of  pride  and  happiness  -filled 
her  eyes.  Then  suddenly  the  things  she  had  waited  for 
came  to  pass, 


200  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Loder  leant  close  to  her.  She  was  intensely  conscious 
of  his  nearer  presence,  of  his  strong,  masterful  person- 
ality. With  a  thrill  that  caught  her  breath,  she  felt 
his  arm  about  her  shoulder  and  heard  the  sound  of  his 
voice. 

"Eve,"  he  said,  "I  love  you.  Do  you  understand? 
I  love  you."  And  drawing  her  close  to  him,  he  bent  and 
kissed  her. 

With  Loder,  to  do  was  to  do  fully.  When  he  gave, 
he  gave  generously ;  when  he  swept  aside  a  barrier,  he 
left  no  stone  standing.  He  had  been  slow  to  recognize 
his  capacities — slower  still  to  recognize  his  feelings.  But 
now  that  the  knowledge  came,  he  received  it  openly.  In 
this  matter  of  newly  comprehended  love  he  gave  no 
thought  to  either  past  or  future.  That  they  loved  and 
were  alone,  was  all  he  knew  or  questioned.  She  was  as 
much  Eve — the  one  woman — as  though  they  were  to- 
gether in  the  primeval  garden;  and  in  this  spirit  he 
claimed  her. 

He  neither  spoke  nor  behaved  extravagantly  in  that 
great  moment  of  comprehension.  He  acted  quietly,  with 
the  completeness  of  purpose  that  he  gave  to  everything. 
He  had  found  a  new  capacity  within  himself,  and  he 
was  strong  enough  to  dread  no  weakness  in  displaying 
it. 

Holding  her  close  to  him,  he  repeated  his  declaration 
again  and  again,  as  though  repetition  ratified  it.  He 
found  no  need  to  question  her  feeling  for  him — he  had 
divined  it  in  a  flash  of  inspiration  as  she  stood  waiting 
in  the  doorway  of  the  Gallery — but  his  own  surrender 
was  a  different  matter. 

As  the  carriage  passed  round  the  corner  of  Whitehall 
and  dipped  into  the  traffic  of  Piccadilly  he  bent  down 
again  till  her  soft  hair  brushed  his  face;  and  the  warm 
personal  contact,  the  slight  fresh  smell  of  violets  so 
suggestive  of  her  presence,  stirred  him  afresh. 

"  Eve,"  he  said  vehemently,  "  do  you  understand  ?  Do 
you  know  that  I  have  loved  you  always — from  the  very 
first  ?  "  As  he  said  it,  he  bent  still  nearer,  kissing  her 
lips,  her  forehead,  her  hair. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  201 

At  the  same  moment  the  horses  slackened  speed  and 
then  stopped,  arrested  by  one  of  the  temporary  blocks 
that  so  often  occur  in  the  traffic  of  Piccadilly  Circus. 

Loder,  preoccupied  with  his  own  feelings,  scarcely 
notied  the  halt,  but  Eve  drew  away  from  him  laughing. 

"  You  mustn't !  "  she  said  softly.    "  Look !  " 

The  carriage  had  stopped  beside  one  of  the  small  islands 
that  intersect  the  place;  a  group  of  pedestrians  were 
crowded  upon  it,  under  the  light  of  the  electric  lamp — 
wayfarers  who,  like  themselves,  were  awaiting  a  pass- 
age. Loder  took  a  cursory  glance  at  them,  then  turned 
back  to  Eve. 

"  What  are  they,  after  all,  but  men  and  women !  " 
he  said.  "  They'd  understand — every  one  of  them."  He 
laughed  in  his  turn;  nevertheless  he  withdrew  his  arm. 
Her  feminine  thought  for  conventionalities  appealed  to 
him.  It  was  an  acknowledgment  of  dependency. 

For  a  while  they  sat  silent,  the  light  of  the  street  lamp 
flickering  through  the  glass  of  the  window,  the  hum  of 
voices  and  traffic  coming  to  them  in  a  continuous  rise 
and  fall  of  sound.  At  first  the  position  was  interesting; 
then,  as  the  seconds  followed  each  other,  it  gradually  be- 
came irksome.  Loder,  watching  the  varying  expressions 
of  Eve's  face,  grew  impatient  of  the  delay;  grew  sud- 
denly eager  to  be  alone  again  in  the  fragrant  dark- 
ness. 

Impelled  by  the  desire,  he  bent  forward  and  opened 
the  carriage  window. 

"  Let's  find  the  meaning  of  this,"  he  said.  "  Is  there 
nobody  to  regulate  the  traffic?"  As  he  spoke  he  half 
rose  and  leant  out  of  the  window.  There  was  a  touch 
of  imperious  annoyance  in  his  manner.  Fresh  from 
the  realization  of  power,  there  was  something  irksome 
in  this  commonplace  check  to  his  desires. 

"  Isn't  it  possible  to  get  out  of  this  ?  "  Eve  heard  him 
call  to  the  coachman.  Then  she  heard  no  more. 

H«  had  leaned  out  of  the  carriage  with  the  intention 
of  looking  onward  towards  the  cause  of  the  delay;  in- 
stead, by  that  magnetic  attraction  that  undoubtedly  exists, 
he  looked  directly  in  front  of  him  at  the  group  of  peo- 


202  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

pie  waiting  on  the  little  island — at  one  man  who  leant 
against  the  lamp-post  in  an  attitude  of  apathy, — a  man 
with  a  pallid  unshaven  face  and  lusterless  eyes,  who 
wore  a  cap  drawn  low  over  his  forehead. 

He  looked  at  this  man,  and  the  man  saw  and  returned 
his  glance.  For  a  space  that  seemed  interminable  they 
held  each  other's  eyes;  then  very  slowly  Loder  drew 
back  into  the  carriage. 

As  he  dropped  into  his  seat,  Eve  glanced  at  him  anxi- 
ously. 

"  John,"  she  said,  "  has  anything  happened  ?  You  look 
ill."* 

He  turned  to  her  and  tried  to  smile. 

"  It's  nothing !  "  he  said.  "  Nothing  to  worry  about." 
He  spoke  quickly,  but  his  voice  had  suddenly  become  flat. 
All  the  command,  all  the  domination  had  dropped  away 
from  it. 

She  bent  close  to  him,  her  face  lighting  up  with  anx- 
ious tenderness.  "  It  was  the  excitement,"  she  said, 
"the  strain  of  to-night." 

He  looked  back  at  her;  but  he  made  no  attempt  to 
press  the  fingers  that  clasped  his  own. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  slowly.  "  It  was  the  excitement  of 
to-night — and  the  reaction." 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

The  next  morning  at  eight  o'clock — and  again  with- 
out his  breakfast — Loder  covered  the  distance  between 
Grosvenor  Square  and  Clifford's  Inn.  He  left  Chilcote's 
house  hastily,  with  a  haste  that  only  an  urgent  motive 
could  have  driven  him  to  adopt;  his  steps  were  quick 
and  uneven  as  he  traversed  the  intervening  streets,  his 
shoulders  lacked  their  decisive  pose,  and  his  pale  face 
was  marked  with  shadows  beneath  the  eyes — shadows 
that  bore  witness  to  the  sleepless  night  spent  in  pacing 
Chilcote's  vast  and  lonely  room.  By  the  curious  effect 
of  circumstances,  the  likeness  between  the  two  men  had 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  203 

never  been  more  significantly  marked  than  on  that  morn- 
ing of  April  the  nineteenth,  when  Loder  walked  along 
the  pavements  crowded  with  early  workers  and  brisk 
with  persistent  news-vendors  already  alive  to  the  value 
of  last  night's  political  crisis. 

The  irony  of  this  last  element  in  the  day's  concerns 
came  to  him  fully  when  one  newsboy,  more  insistent 
than  his  fellows,  thrust  a  paper  in  front  of  him. 

"  Sensation  in  the  'Ouse,  sir !  Government  defeat ! 
Great  speech  by  Mr.  Chilcote ! " 

For  a  moment  Loder  stopped,  and  his  face  reddened. 
The  tide  of  emotions  still  ran  strong.  His  hand  went 
instinctively  to  his  pocket;  then  his  lips  set.  He  shook 
his  head  and  walked  on. 

With  the  same  hard  expression  about  his  mouth,  he 
turned  into  Clifford's  Inn,  passed  through  his  own  door- 
way, and  mounted  the  stairs. 

This  time  there  was  no  milk-can  on  the  threshold  of 
his  rooms,  and  the  door  yielded  to  his  pressure  without 
the  need  of  a  key.  With  a  strange  sensation  of  reluc- 
tance he  walked  into  the  narrow  passage  and  paused, 
uncertain  which  room  to  enter  first.  As  he  stood  hesi- 
tating, a  voice  from  the  sitting-room  settled  the  ques- 
tion. 

"Who's  there?"  it  called  irritably.  "What  do  you 
want?" 

Without  further  ceremony  Loder  pushed  the  door  open 
and  entered  the  room.  As  he  did  so,  he  drew  a  quick 
breath.  Whether  he  had  hoped  for  or  dreaded  it,  Chilcote 
was  in  possession  of  his  faculties. 

As  he  entered,  he  was  sitting  by  the  cheerless  grate, 
the  ashes  of  yesterday's  fire  showing  charred  and  dreary 
where  the  sun  touched  them.  His  back  was  to  the 
light,  and  about  his  shoulders  was  an  old  plaid  rug  of 
Loder's.  Behind  him  on  the  table  stood  a  cup,  a  tea- 
pot, and  the  can  of  milk;  farther  off,  a  kettle  was  set 
to  boil  upon  a  tiny  spirit-stove. 

In  all  strong  situations  we  are  more  or  less  common- 
place. Loder's  first  remark  as  he  glanced  round  the 


204  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

disordered  room  seemed  strangely  immaterial  to  the  mo- 
ment. 

"  Where's  Robins?  "  he  asked  in  a  brusque  voice.  His 
mind  teemed  with  big  considerations,  yet  this  was  his 
first  involuntary  question. 

Chilcote  had  started  at  the  entrance  of  his  visitor; 
now  he  sat  staring  at  him,  his  hands  holding  the  arms 
of  his  chair. 

"  Where's  Robins  ?  "  Loder  asked  again. 

"I  don't  know.  She— I We  didn't  hit  it  off. 

She's  gone — went  yesterday."  He  shivered,  and  drew 
the  rug  about  him. 

"  Chilcote !  "  Loder  began  sternly ;  then  he  paused. 
There  was  something  in  the  other's  look  and  attitude 
that  arrested  him.  A  change  of  expression  passed  over 
his  face.  He  turned  with  an  abrupt  gesture,  pulled  off 
his  coat  and  threw  it  on  a  chair;  then,  crossing  deliber- 
ately to  the  fireplace,  he  began  to  rake  the  ashes  from 
the  grate. 

Within  a  few  minutes  he  had  a  fire  crackling  where 
the  bed  of  dead  cinders  had  been;  and  having  finished 
the  task,  he  rose  slowly  from  his  knees,  wiped  his  hands, 
and  crossed  to  the  table.  On  the  small  spirit-stove  the 
kettle  had  boiled,  and  the  cover  was  lifting  and  falling 
with  a  tinkling  sound.  Blowing  out  the  flame,  he  picked 
up  the  teapot,  and  with  hands  that  were  evidently  ac- 
customed to  the  task,  set  about  making  tea. 

During  the  whole  operation  he  never  spoke,  though 
all  the  while  he  was  fully  conscious  of  Chilcote's  puzzled 
gaze.  The  tea  ready,  he  poured  it  into  the  cup  and 
carried  it  across  the  room. 

"  Drink  this !  "  he  said  laconically.  "  The  fire  will  be 
up  presently." 

Chilcote  extended  a  cold  and  shaky  hand.  "  You  see 
"  he  began. 

But  Loder  checked  him  almost  savagely.  "  I  do — 
as  well  as  though  I  had  followed  you  from  Piccadilly 
last  night.  You've  been  hanging  about,  God  knows  where, 
till  th£  small  hours  of  the  morning;  then  you've  come 
back-— slunk  back — starving  for  your  damned  poison  ancj 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  205 

shivering  with  cold.  You've  settled  the  first  part  of  the 
business — but  the  cold  has  still  to  be  reckoned  with. 
Drink  the  tea.  I've  something  to  say  to  you."  He  mas- 
tered his  vehemence,  and  walking  to  the  window,  stood 
looking  down  into  the  court.  His  eyes  were  blank,  his 
face  hard,  his  ears  heard  nothing  but  the  faint  sound  of 
Chilcote's  swallowing,  and  the  click  of  the  cup  against 
his  teeth. 

For  a  time  that  seemed  interminable  he  stood  motion- 
less; then,  when  he  judged  the  tea  finished,  he  turned 
slowly.  Chilcote  had  drawn  closer  to  the  fire.  He  was 
obviously  braced  by  the  warmth ;  and  the  apathy  that 
hung  about  him  was  to  some  extent  dispelled.  Still 
moving  slowly,  Loder  went  towards  him,  and  relieving 
him  of  the  empty  cup,  stood  looking  down  at  him. 

"  Chilcote,"  he  said  very  quietly,  "  I've  come  to  tell 
you  that  the  thing  must  end." 

After  he  spoke  there  was  a  prolonged  pause ;  then,  as 
if  shaken  into  sudden  consciousness,  Chilcote  rose.  The 
rug  dropped  from  one  shoulder  and  hung  down  ludi- 
crously; his  hand  caught  the  back  of  his  chair  for  sup- 
port ;  his  unshaven  face  looked  absurd  and  repulsive  in 
its  sudden  expression  of  scared  inquiry.  Loder  involun- 
tarily turned  away. 

"  I  mean  it,"  he  said  slowly.  "  It's  over.  We've  come 
to  the  end." 

"But  why?"  Chilcote  articulated  blankly.  "Why? 
Why  ?  "  In  his  confusion  he  could  think  of  no  better 
word. 

"  Because  I  throw  it  up.  My  side  of  the  bargain's 
off!" 

Again  Chilcote's  lips  parted  stammeringly.  The  apathy 
caused  by  physical  exhaustion  and  his  recently  adminis- 
tered drug  was  passing  from  him;  the  hopelessly  shat- 
tered condition  of  mind  and  body  was  showing  through 
it,  like  a  skeleton  through  a  thin  covering  of  flesh. 

"But  why?"  he  stammered  again.     "Why?" 

Still  Loder  avoided  the  frightened  surprise  of  his 
eyes. 

"  Because  I  withdraw,"  he  answered  doggedly. 


SJU6  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Then  suddenly  Chilcote's  tongue  was  loosened.  "  Lod- 
er !  "  he  cried  excitedly,  "  you  can't  do  it !  God !  man 
you  can't  do  it !  "  Then,  to  reassure  himself,  he  laughed 
— a  painfully  thin  echo  of  his  old  sarcastic  laugh.  "  If 

it's  a  matter  of  greater  opportunity "  he  began,  "  of 

more  money " 

But  Loder  turned  upon  him. 

"  Be  quiet !  "  he  said,  so  menacingly  that  the  other 
stopped. 

"  It's  not  a  matter  of  money,  Chilcote,"  he  went  on 
more  quietly ;  "  it's  a  matter  of  necessity."  He  brought 
the  word  out  with  difficulty. 

Chilcote  glanced  up.  "  Necessity?"  he  said.  "How? 
Why?" 

The  reiteration  roused  Loder. 

"  Because  there  was  a  scene  in  the  House  last  night," 
he  began  hurriedly ;  "  because  when  you  go  back  you'll 
find  that  Sefborough  has  smashed  up  over  the  assassina- 
tion of  Sir  William  Brice-Field  at  Meshed,  and  that  you 

have  made  your  mark  in  a  big  speech ;  and  because " 

Abruptly  he  stopped.  The  thing  he  had  meant  to  say 
would  not  be  said.  Either  his  tongue  or  his  resolution 
failed  him,  and  for  the  instant  he  stood  as  silent  and 
almost  as  ill  at  ease  as  his  companion. 

"  Because,  Chilcote "  he  began  again  lamely.  Then 

all  at  once  inspiration  came  to  him  in  the  suggestion  of 
a  wellnigh  forgotten  argument  by  which  he  might  in- 
fluence the  other  and  save  his  own  self-respect. 

"  It's  all  over,  Chilcote,"  he  said  more  quietly ;  "  it 
has  run  itself  out."  And  in  a  dozen  sentences  he  sketched 
the  story  of  Lillian  Astrupp, — her  past  relations  with 
himself — her  present  suspicions.  It  was  not  what  he 
had  meant  to  say;  it  was  not  what  he  had  come  to  say; 
but  it  served  the  purpose — it  saved  him  humiliation. 

Chilcote  listened  to  the  last  word;  and,  as  Loder  fin- 
ished, he  dropped  nervously  back  into  his  chair. 

"  Good  heavens,  man !  "  he  cried.  "  Why  didn't  you 
tell  me?  Why  didn't  you  warn  me,  instead  of  filling 
my  mind  with  your  political  position?  Your  political 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  20? 

position ! "  He  laughed  unsteadily.  The  long  spells  of 
indulgence  that  had  weakened  his  already  maimed  fac- 
ulties showed  in  the  laugh,  in  the  sudden  breaking  of 
his  voice. 

"  You  must  do  something,  Loder !  "  he  added,  nervous- 
ly checking  his  amusement,  "  you  must  do  something !  " 

But  Loder  looked  down  at  him.  "  No,"  he  said  de- 
cisively ;  "  it's  your  turn  now.  It's  you  who've  got  to  do 
something." 

Chilcote's  face  turned  a  shade  grayer.  "  I  can't,"  he 
said  below  his  breath. 

"  Can't  ?  Oh  yes,  you  can  !  We  can  all  do — anything. 
It's  not  too  late;  there's  just  sufficient  time.  Chilcote," 
he  exclaimed  suddenly,  "  don't  you  see  that  the  thing 
has  been  madness  all  along — has  been  like  playing  with 
the  most  infernal  explosives?  You  may  thank  whatever 
you  have  faith  in  that  nobody  has  got  smashed  up !  You 
are  going  back.  Do  you  understand  me  ?  You  are  going 
back — now — to-day — before  it's  too  late."  There  was  a 
great  change  in  Loder;  his  strong  imperturbable  face 
was  stirred ;  he  was  moved  both  in  voice  and  manner. 
Time  after  time  he  repeated  his  injunction — reasoning — 
expostulating — insisting.  It  almost  seemed  that  he 
fought  some  strenuous  invisible  force  rather  than  the 
shattered  man  before  him. 

"  You  are  to  go  back,"  he  said  once  more. 

Chilcote  moved  nervously  in  his  seat.  It  was  the  first 
real  clash  of  personalities.  He  felt  it — recognized  it  by 
instinct.  The  sense  of  domination  had  fallen  on  him; 
he  knew  himself  impotent  in  the  other's  hands.  What- 
ever he  might  attempt  in  moments  of  solitude,  he  pos- 
sessed no  voice  in  presence  of  this  invincible  second  self. 
For  a  while  he  struggled.  He  did  not  fight,  he  struggled 
to  resist;  then  lifting  his  eyes,  his  glance  met  Loder's. 

"  And  you?  "  he  said  weakly.    "  What  will  you  do?  " 

Loder  returned  the  questioning  gaze;  then  he  turned 
aside. 

"  I  ? "  he  said.    "  Oh,  I  shall  leave  town ! " 


208  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

But  Loder  did  not  leave  London ;  and  the  hour  of  two 
on  the  day  following  his  dismissal  of  Chilcote  found  him 
again  in  his  sitting-room. 

He  sat  at  the  center  table,  surrounded  by  a  cloud  of 
smoke.  A  pipe  was  between  his  lips,  and  the  morning's 
newspapers  lay  in  a  heap  beside  him.  To  the  student  of 
humanity  his  attitude  was  intensely  interesting.  It  was 
the  attitude  of  a  man  trammeled  by  the  knowledge  of 
his  strength.  Before  him,  as  he  sat  smoking,  stretched 
a  future  of  absolute  nothingness ;  and  towards  this  blank 
future  one  portion  of  his  consciousness — a  struggling 
and  as  yet  scarcely  sentient  portion — pushed  him  inevit- 
ably; while  another — a  vigorous,  persistent,  human  por- 
tion— cried  to  him  to  pause.  So  actual,  so  clamorous 
was  this  mental  combat  that  had  raged  unceasingly  since 
the  moment  of  his  renunciation,  that  at  last,  in  physical 
response  to  it,  he  rose  and  pushed  back  his  chair. 

"  It's  too  late !  "  he  said  aloud.  "  I'm  a  fool.  It's  too 
late!" 

Then  abruptly,  astonishingly — as  though  in  direct  re- 
sponse to  his  spoken  thought — the  door  opened,  and  Chil- 
cote walked  into  the  room. 

For  a  moment  Loder  stared  at  him.  The  feeling  he 
acknowledged  to  himself  was  anger  ;  but,  below  the  anger, 
a  very  different  sensation  ran  riotously  strong.  And  it 
was  in  time  to  this  second  feeling — this  sudden  lawless 
joy — that  his  pulses  beat  as  he  turned  a  cold  face  on  the 
intruder. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said  sternly. 

But  Chilcote  was  impervious  to  sternness.  He  was 
mentally  shaken  and  distressed,  though  outwardly  irre- 
proachable, even  to  the  violets  in  the  lapel  of  his  coat — 
violets  that  for  a  week  past  had  been  brought  each  morn- 
ing to  the  door  of  Loder's  room  by  Eve's  maid,  and 
scrupulously  fastened  into  his  coat  by  Renwick.  For 
one  second,  as  his  eyes  rested  on  the  flowers,  a  sting  of 
ungovernable  jealousy  shot  through  Loder;  but  as  sud- 
denly it  died  away,  superseded  by  another  feeling — a 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  209 

feeling  of  new,  spontaneous  joy.  Worn  by  Chilcote — 
or  by  himself — the  flowers  were  a  symbol ! 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said  again,  in  a  gentler  voice. 

Chilcote  had  walked  to  the  table  and  laid  down  his 
hat.  His  face  was  white,  and  the  muscles  of  his  lips 
twitched  nervously  as  he  drew  off  his  gloves. 

"  Thank  Heaven  you're  here !  "  he  said  shortly.  "  Give 
me  something  to  drink." 

In  silence  Loder  brought  out  the  whisky  and  set  it  on 
the  table;  then  instinctively  he  turned  aside.  As  plainly 
as  though  he  saw  it,  he  mentally  figured  Chilcote's  fur- 
tive glance,  the  furtive  movement  of  his  fingers  to  his 
waistcoat  pocket,  the  hasty  dropping  of  the  tabloids  into 
the  glass.  For  an  instant  the  sense  of  his  tacit  con- 
nivance came  to  him  sharply ;  the  next,  he  flung  it  from 
him.  The  human,  inner  voice  was  whispering  its  old 
watchword,  "  The  strong  man  has  no  time  to  waste  over 
his  weaker  brother !  " 

When  he  heard  Chilcote  lay  down  the  tumbler  he 
looked  back  again. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?  "  he  said.  "  What  have  you  come 
for  ?  "  He  strove  resolutely  to  keep  his  voice  severe ;  but 
try  as  he  might,  he  could  not  quite  subdue  the  eager 
force  that  lay  behind  his  words.  Once  again,  as  on 
the  night  of  their  second  interchange,  life  had  become  a 
phoenix,  rising  to  fresh  existence  even  while  he  sifted  its 
ashes. 

"  Well  ?  "  he  said  once  again. 

Chilcote  had  set  down  his  glass,  and  was  nervously 
passing  his  handkerchief  across  his  lips.  There  was 
something  in  the  gesture  that  attracted  Loder.  Looking 
at  him  more  attentively,  he  saw  what  his  own  feeling  and 
the  other's  conventional  dress  had  blinded  him  to — the 
almost  piteous  panic  and  excitement  in  Chilcote's  eyes. 

"  Something's  gone  wrong !  "  he  said  with  abrupt  intui- 
tion. 

Chilcote  started,  dropping  his  handkerchief.  "Yes 
— no.  That  is,  yes,"  he  stammered  as  he  stooped  to  pick, 
it  up. 

Loder  moved  around  the  table, 


210  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  Something's  gone  wrong,"  he  repeated.  "  And  you've 
come  to  tell  me." 

The  tone  unnerved  Chilcote;  he  suddenly  sank  into  a 
chair. 

"  It— it  wasn't  my  fault,"  he  began.  "  I— I  have  had 
a  horrible  time !  " 

Loder's  lips  tightened.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  yes — I  un- 
derstand." 

The  other  glanced  up  with  a  gleam  of  his  old  sus- 
picion. '  'Twas  all  my  nerves,  Loder " 

"  Of  course.  Of  course."  Loder's  interruption  was 
curt. 

Chilcote  eyed  him  doubtfully.  Then  recollection  took 
the  place  of  doubt,  and  a  change  passed  over  his  expres- 
sion. 

"  It  wasn't  my  fault,"  he  began  afresh.  "  On  my  soul, 
it  wasn't!  It  was  Crapham's  beastly  fault  for  showing 
her  into  the  morning-room " 

Loder  kept  silence.  His  curiosity  had  flared  into  life 
at  the  other's  words,  but  he  feared  to  break  the  shattered 
train  of  thought  even  by  a  breath. 

In  the  silence,  Chilcote  moved  uneasily.  "  You  see," 
he  went  on,  "  when  I  was  here  with  you,  I — I  felt  strong. 
I — I "  he  stopped. 

"  Yes,  yes.  When  you  were  here  with  me  you  felt 
strong." 

"  Yes ;  that's  it.  While  I  was  here  I  felt  I  could  do  the 
thing.  But  when  I  got  home — when  I  went  up  to  my 

rooms "  Again  he  paused — passing  his  handkerchief 

across  his  forehead. 

"  When  you  went  to  your  rooms  ?  "  Loder  strove  hard 
to  keep  his  control. 

"  To  my  rooms  ?  Oh,  I — I  forget  about  that.  I  for- 
get about  the  night .  All  I  remember  is  the  coming 

down  to  breakfast  next  morning — this  morning — at 
twelve  o'clock " 

Loder  turned  to  the  table  and  poured  himself  out  some 
whisky.  "  Yes,"  he  acquiesced,  in  a  very  quiet  voice. 

At  the  word  Chilcote  rose  from  tys  seat,  JJjs  disquie- 
tude was  very  evident- 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  211 

"  Oh,  there  was  breakfast  on  the  table  when  I  came 
downstairs — breakfast  with  flowers  and  a  horrible  daz- 
zling glare  of  sun.  It  was  then,  Loder — as  I  stood  and 
looked  into  the  room — that  the  impossibility  of  it  all 
came  to  me;  that  I  knew  I  couldn't  stand  it — couldn't 
go  on." 

Loder  swallowed  his  whisky  slowly.  His  sense  of 
overpowering  curiosity  still  mastered  him;  but  he  made 
no  effort  to  prompt  his  companion. 

Again  Chilcote  shifted  his  position. 

"  It  had  to  be  done,"  he  said  disjointedly.  "  I  had  to 
do  it — then  and  there.  The  things  were  on  the  bureau 
— the  pens  and  ink  and  telegraph  forms.  And  they 
tempted  me." 

Loder  laid  down  his  glass  suddenly.  An  exclamation 
rose  to  his  lips,  but  he  checked  it. 

At  the  slight  sound  of  the  tumbler  touching  the  table 
Chilcote  turned;  but  there  was  no  expression  on  the 
other's  face  to  affright  him. 

"  They  tempted  me,"  he  repeated  hastily.  "  They 
seemed  like  magnets — they  seemed  to  draw  me  towards 
them.  I  sat  at  the  bureau  staring  at  them  for  a  long 
time;  then  a  terrible  compulsion  seized  me — something 
you  could  never  understand — and  I  caught  up  the  near- 
est pen  and  wrote  just  what  was  in  my  mind.  It  wasn't 
a  telegram,  properly  speaking — it  was  more  a  letter.  I 
wanted  you  back,  and  I  had  to  make  myself  plain.  The 
writing  of  the  message  seemed  to  steady  me;  the  mere 
forming  of  the  words  quieted  the  panic.  I  was  almost 
cool  when  I  got  up  from  the  bureau  and  pressed  the 
bell " 

"The  bell?" 

"  Yes.  I  rang  for  a  servant.  I  had  to  send  the  wire 
myself,  so  I  had  to  get  a  cab."  His  voice  rose  to  irri- 
tability. 

"  I  pressed  the  bell  several  times,  but  the  thing  had 
gone  wrong — 'twouldn't  work.  At  last  I  gave  it  up  and 
went  out  into  the  corridor  to  call  some  one." 

"  Well  ?  "  In  the  intense  suspense  of  the  moment  the 
word  escaped  Loder. 


212  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

"  Oh,  I  went  out  of  the  room ;  but  there,  at  the  door, 
before  I  could  call  anybody,  I  knocked  up  against  that 
idiot  Greening.  He  was  looking  for  me — for  you  rather 
— about  some  beastly  Wark  affair.  I  tried  to  explain 
that  I  wasn't  in  a  state  for  business ;  I  tried  to  shake  him 
off,  but  he  was  worse  than  Blessington !  At  last,  to  be 
rid  of  the  fellow,  I  went  with  him  to  the  study ' 

"  But  the  telegram  ?  "  Loder  began ;  then  again  he 
checked  himself.  "  Yes — yes — I  understand,"  he  sub- 
stituted quietly. 

"  I'm  getting  to  the  telegram !  I  wish  you  wouldn't 
jar  me  with  sudden  questions.  I  wasn't  in  the  study 

more  than  a  minute — more  than  five  or  six  minutes " 

His  voice  became  confused ;  the  strain  of  the  connected 
recital  was  telling  upon  him.  With  nervous  haste  he 
made  a  rush  for  the  end  of  his  story. 

"  I  wasn't  more  than  seven  or  eight  minutes  in  the 
study ;  but  as  I  came  downstairs,  Crapham  met  me  in 
the  hall.  He  told  me  that  Lillian  Astrupp  had  called 
and  wished  to  see  me,  and  that  he  had  shown  her  into 
the  morning-room " 

"  The  morning-room  ?  "  Loder  suddenly  stepped  back 
from  the  table.  "  The  morning-room  ?  With  your  tele- 
gram lying  on  the  bureau?" 

His  sudden  speech  and  movement  startled  Chilcote. 
The  blood  rushed  to  his  face,  then  died  out,  leaving  it 
ashen. 

"  Don't  do  that,  Loder !  "  he  cried. 

With  an  immense  effort  Loder  controlled  himself. 
"Sorry!"  he  said.  "Goon!" 

"  I'm  going  on !  I  tell  you  I'm  going  on,  if  you  give 
me  time !  I  got  a  horrid  shock  when  Crapham  told  me. 
Your  story  came  clattering  through  my  mind.  I  knew 
Lillian  had  come  to  see  you — I  knew  there  was  going  to 
be  a  scene " 

"But  the  telegram?     The  telegram?" 

Chilcote  paid  no  heed  to  the  interruption.  He  was 
following  his  own  train  of  ideas.  "  I  knew  she  had  come 
to  see  you — I  knew  there  was  going  to  be  a  scene.  When 
I  got  to  the  morning-room  my  hand  was  shaking  so  that 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  213 

I  could  scarcely  turn  the  handle ;  then,  as  the  door  opened, 
I  could  have  cried  out  with  relief.  Eve  was  there  as 
well!" 

"Eve?" 

"  Yes.  I  don't  think  I  was  ever  so  glad  to  see  her  in 
my  life."  He  laughed  almost  hysterically.  "  I  was  quite 

civil  to  her,  and  she  was  quite  sweet  to  me "  Again 

he  laughed. 

Loder's  lips  tightened. 

"  You  see  it  saved  the  situation.  Even  if  Lillian  wanted 
to  be  nasty  she  couldn't,  while  Eve  was  there.  We  talked 
for  about  ten  minutes.  We  were  quite  an  amiable  trio. 
Then  Lillian  told  me  why  she'd  called.  She  wanted  me 
to  make  a  fourth  in  a  theatre  party  at  the  '  Arcadian ' 
to-night,  and  I — I  was  so  pleased  and  so  relieved  that  I 
said  yes." 

In  his  tense  anxiety  Loder  ground  his  heel  into  the 
floor.  "  Go  on  !  "  he  said  fiercely.  "  Go  on !  " 

"  Don't !  "  Chilcote  exclaimed  again.  "  I'm  going  on 
— I'm  going  on."  He  passed  his  handkerchief  across  his 
lips.  "  We  talked  for  ten  minutes  or  so,  and  then  Lillian 
left.  I  went  with  her  to  the  hall-door,  but  Crapham  was 
there  too — so  I  was  safe.  She  laughed  and  chatted  and 
seemed  in  high  spirits  as  we  crossed  the  hall,  and  she 
was  still  smiling  as  she  waved  to  me  from  her  motor. 
But  then,  Loder — then,  as  I  stood  in  the  hall,  it  all  came 
back  to  me  suddenly.  I  remembered  that  Lillian  must 
have  been  alone  in  the  morning-room  before  Eve  found 
her !  I  remembered  the  telegram ! 

"  I  ran  back  to  the  room,  meaning  to  question  Eve  as 
to  how  long  Lillian  had  been  alone,  but  she  was  gone, 
and  the  room  was  empty.  I  ran  to  the  bureau — but 
the  telegram  wasn't  there ! " 

"Gone?" 

"  Yes ;  gone.    That's  why  I've  come  straight  here." 

For  a  moment  they  confronted  each  other.  Then, 
moved  by  a  sudden  impulse,  Loder  pushed  Chilcote  aside 
and  crossed  the  room.  An  instant  later  the  opening  and 
shutting  of  doors,  the  hasty  pulling  out  of  drawers  and 
moving  of  boxes,  came  from  the  bedroom. 


214  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

Chilcote,  shaken  and  nervous,  stood  for  a  minute  where 
his  companion  had  left  him.  At  last,  impelled  by  curi- 
osity and  fear,  he  too  crossed  the  narrow  passage  and 
entered  the  second  room. 

The  full  light  streamed  in  through  the  open  window; 
the  keen  spring  air  blew  freshly  across  the  house-tops, 
and  on  the  windowsill  a  band  of  grimy,  joyous  sparrows 
twittered  and  preened  themselves.  In  the  middle  of  the 
room  stood  Loder.  His  coat  was  off,  and  round  about 
him  on  chairs  and  floor  lay  an  array  of  waistcoats,  gloves, 
and  ties. 

For  a  space  Chilcote  stood  in  the  doorway  staring  at 
him;  then  his  lips  parted  and  he  took  a  step  forward. 

"  Loder "  he  said  anxiously.  "  Loder,  what  are 

you  going  to  do  ?  " 

Loder  turned.  His  shoulders  were  stiff,  his  face  alight 
with  energy. 

"  I'm  going  back,"  he  said,  "  to  unravel  the  tangle  you 
have  made ! " 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

Loder's  plan  of  action  was  arrived  at  before  he  reached 
Trafalgar  Square.  The  facts  of  the  case  were  simple. 
Chilcote  had  left  an  incriminating  telegram  on  the  bureau 
in  the  morning-room  at  Grosvenor  Square ;  by  an  un- 
lucky chance  Lillian  Astrupp  had  been  shown  into  that 
room,  where  she  had  remained  alone  until  the  moment 
that  Eve,  either  by  request  or  accident,  had  found  her 
there.  The  facts  resolved  themselves  into  one  question 
— What  use  had  Lillian  made  of  those  solitary  moments  ? 
Without  deviation,  Loder's  mind  turned  towards  one  an- 
swer. Lillian  was  not  the  woman  to  lose  an  opportun- 
ity, whether  the  space  at  her  command  was  long  or  short. 
True,  Eve  too  had  been  alone  in  the  room — while  Chil- 
cote had  accompanied  Lillian  to  the  door — but  of  this  he 
made  small  account.  Eve  had  been  there,  but  Lillian  had 
been  there  first.  Judging  by  precedent,  by  personal  char- 
acter, by  all  human  probability,  it  was  not  to  be  supposed 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  215 

that  anything  would  have  been  left  for  the  second  comer. 

So  convinced  was  he  of  this  that,  reaching  Trafalgar 
Square,  he  stopped  and  hailed  a  hansom. 

"Cadogan  Gardens!"  he  called,  "No.  33." 

The  moments  seemed  very  few  before  the  cab  drew 
up  beside  the  curb,  and  he  caught  his  second  glimpse 
of  the  enameled  door  with  its  silver  fittings.  The  white 
and  silver  gleamed  in  the  sunshine;  banks  of  cream- 
colored  hyacinths  were  clustered  on  the  window-sills, 
filling  the  clear  air  with  a  warm  and  fragrant  scent. 
With  that  strange  sensation  of  having  lived  through  the 
scene  before,  Loder  left  the  cab  and  walked  up  the  steps. 
Instantly  he  pressed  the  bell,  the  door  was  opened  by 
Lillian's  discreet,  deferential  man-servant. 

"  Is  Lady  Astrupp  at  home  ?  "  he  asked. 

The  man  looked  thoughtful.  "  Her  ladyship  lunched 
at  home,  sir "  he  began  cautiously. 

But  Loder  interrupted  him.  "  Ask  her  to  see  me,"  he 
said  laconically. 

The  servant  expressed  no  surprise.  His  only  com- 
ment was  to  throw  the  door  wide. 

"  If  you'll  wait  in  the  white  room,  sir,"  he  said,  "  I'll 
inform  her  ladyship."  Chilcote  was  evidently  a  frequent 
and  a  favored  visitor. 

In  this  manner  Loder  for  the  second  time  entered 
the  house  that  was  so  unfamiliar — and  yet  so  familiar — 
in  all  that  it  suggested.  Entering  the  drawing-room,  he 
had  leisure  to  look  about  him.  It  was  a  beautiful  room, 
large  and  lofty ;  luxury  was  evident  on  every  hand,  but 
it  was  not  the  luxury  that  palls  or  offends.  Each  object 
was  graceful,  and  possessed  its  own  intrinsic  value.  The 
atmosphere  was  too  effeminate  to  appeal  to  him,  but  he 
acknowledged  the  taste  and  artistic  delicacy  it  conveyed. 
At  the  moment  that  he  made  the  acknowledgment,  the 
door  opened  to  admit  Lillian. 

She  wore  the  same  gown  of  pale-colored  cloth, 
warmed  and  softened  by  rich  furs,  that  she  had  worn 
on  the  day  she  and  Chilcote  had  driven  in  the  Park. 
$he  was  drawing  on  her  gloves  as  she  came  ipto  the 


216  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

room;  and  pausing  near  the  door,  she  looked  across  at 
Loder  and  laughed  in  her  slow,  amused  way. 

"  I  thought  it  would  be  you !  "  she  said  enigmatically. 

Loder  came  forward. 

"  You  expected  me  ?  "  he  said  guardedly.  A  sudden 
conviction  filled  him  that  it  was  not  the  evidence  of  her 
eyes,  but  something  at  once  subtler  and  more  definite, 
that  prompted  her  recognition  of  him. 

She  smiled.  "Why  should  I  expect  you?  On  the 
contrary,  I'm  waiting  to  know  why  you're  here  ?  " 

He  was  silent  for  an  instant ;  then  he  answered  in 
her  own  light  tone. 

"  As  far  as  that  goes,  let's  make  it  my  duty  call — hav- 
ing dined  with  you.  I'm  an  old-fashioned  person." 

For  a  full  second  she  surveyed  him  amusedly;  then 
she  spoke. 

"  My  dear  Jack,"  she  laid  particular  stress  on  the 
name,  "  I  never  imagined  you  punctilious.  I  should  have 
thought  bohemian  would  have  been  more  the  word." 

Loder  felt  disconcerted  and  annoyed.  Either,  like 
himself,  she  was  fishing  for  information — or  she  was  de- 
liberately playing  with  him.  In  his  perplexity,  he  glanced 
across  the  room  towards  the  fireplace. 

Lillian  saw  the  look.  "  Won't  you  sit  down  ?  "  she 
said,  indicating  the  couch.  "  I  promise  not  make  you 
smoke.  I  shan't  even  ask  you  to  take  off  your  gloves !  " 

Loder  made  no  movement.  His  mind  was  unpleasantly 
upset.  It  was  nearly  a  fortnight  since  he  had  seen  Lil- 
lian, and  in  the  interval  her  attitude  had  changed,  and 
the  change  puzzled  him.  It  might  mean  the  philosophy 
of  a  woman  who — knowing  herself  without  adequate 
weapons — withdraws  from  a  combat  that  has  proved  fruit- 
less; or  it  might  imply  the  merely  catlike  desire  to  toy 
with  a  certainty.  He  looked  quickly  at  the  delicate  face, 
the  green  eyes  somewhat  obliquely  set,  the  unreliable 
mouth,  and  instantly  he  inclined  to  the  latter  theory. 
The  conviction  that  she  possessed  the  telegram  filled  him 
suddenly;  and  with  it.  came  the  desire  to  put  his  belief 
to  the  test — to  know  beyond  question  whether  her  smil- 
ing unconcern  meant  malice  or  entertainment. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  217 

"  When  you  first  came  into  the  room,"  he  said  quietly, 
"  you  said  '  I  thought  it  would  be  you ! '  Why  did  you 
say  that  ?  " 

Again  she  smiled — the  smile  that  might  be  malicious 
or  might  be  merely  amused. 

"  Oh,"  she  answered,  "  I  only  meant  that,  though  I 
had  been  told  Jack  Chilcote  wanted  me9  it  wasn't  Jack 
Chilcote  I  expected  to  see !  " 

After  her  statement  there  was  a  pause.  Loder's  posi- 
tion was  difficult.  Instinctively  convinced  that,  strong  in 
the  possession  of  her  proof,  she  was  enjoying  his  tan- 
talized discomfort,  he  yet  craved  the  actual  evidence  that 
should  set  his  suspicions  to  rest.  Acting  upon  the  de- 
sire, he  made  a  new  beginning. 

"  Do  you  know  why  I  came  ?  "  he  asked. 

Lillian  looked  up  innocently.  "  It's  so  hard  to  be  cer- 
tain of  anything  in  this  world,"  she  said.  "  But  one  is 
always  at  liberty  to  guess." 

Again  he  was  perplexed.  Her  attitude  was  not  quite 

the  attitude  of  one  who  controls  the  game,  and  yet 

He  looked  at  her  with  a  puzzled  scrutiny.  Women  for 
him  had  always  spelt  the  incomprehensible;  he  was  at 
his  best,  his  strongest,  his  surest  in  the  presence  of  men. 
Feeling  his  disadvantage,  yet  determined  to  gain  his  end, 
he  made  a  last  attempt. 

"  How  did  you  amuse  yourself  at  Grosvenor  Square 
this  morning,  before  Eve  came  to  you  ?  "  he  asked.  The 
effort  was  awkwardly  blunt,  but  it  was  direct. 

Lillian  was  buttoning  her  glove.  She  did  not  raise 
her  head  as  he  spoke,  but  her  fingers  paused  in  their 
task.  For  a  second  she  remained  motionless,  then  she 
looked  up  slowly. 

"  Oh,"  she  said  sweetly,  "  so  I  was  right  in  my  guess! 
You  did  come  to  find  out  whether  I  sat  in  the  morning- 
room  with  my  hands  in  my  lap — or  wandered  about  in 
search  of  entertainment?" 

Loder  colored  with  annoyance  and  apprehension. 
Every  look,  every  tone  of  Lillian's  was  distasteful  to 
him.  No  microscope  could  have  revealed  her  more  fully 
to  him  than  did  his  own  eyesight.  But  it  was  not  the 


218  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

moment  for  personal  antipathies;  there  were  other  inter- 
ests than  his  own  at  stake.  With  new  resolution  he  re- 
turned her  glance. 

"  Then  I  must  still  ask  my  first  question,  Why  did 
you  say  '  I  thought  it  would  be  you  '  ?  "  His  gaze  was 
direct — so  direct  that  it  disconcerted  her.  She  laughed 
a  little  uneasily. 

"  Because  I  knew." 

"  How  did  you  know  ?  " 

"  Because "  she  began ;  then  again  she  laughed. 

"  Because,"  she  added  quickly,  as  if  moved  by  a  fresh 
impulse,  "  Jack  Chilcote  made  it  very  obvious  to  any 
one  who  was  in  his  morning-room  at  twelve  o'clock  to- 
day, that  it  would  be  you  and  not  he  who  would  be 
found  filling  his  place  this  afternoon !  It's  all  very  well 
to  talk  about  honor ;  but  when  one  walks  into  an  empty 
room  and  sees  a  telegram  as  long  as  a  letter  open  on  a 
bureau " 

But  her  sentence  was  never  finished.  Loder  had  heard 
what  he  came  to  hear ;  any  confession  she  might  have  to 
offer  was  of  no  moment  in  his  eyes. 

"  My  dear  girl,"  he  broke  in  brusquely,  "  don't  trou- 
ble !  I  should  make  a  most  unsatisfactory  father  confes- 
sor." He  spoke  quickly;  his  color  was  still  high,  but 
not  with  annoyance ;  his  suspense  was  transformed  into 
unpleasant  certainty,  but  the  exchange  left  him  surer  of 
himself.  His  perplexity  had  dropped  to  a  quiet  sense  of 
self-reliance ;  his  paramount  desire  was  for  solitude,  in 
which  to  prepare  for  the  task  that  lay  before  him — the 
most  congenial  task  the  world  possessed — the  unravelling 
of  Chilcote's  tangled  skeins.  Looking  into  Lillian's  eyes 
he  smiled. 

"  Good-bye !  "  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand.  "  I  think 
we've  finished — for  to-day." 

She  slowly  extended  her  fingers.  Her  expression  and 
attitude  were  slightly  puzzled — a  puzzlement  that  was 
either  spontaneous  or  singularly  well  assumed.  As  their 
hands  touched,  she  smiled  again. 

"  Will  you  drop  in  at  the  '  Arcadian  '  to-night  ?  "  she 
said.  "  It's  the  dramatized  version  of  '  Other  Men's 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  219 

Shoes '  !  The  temptation  to  make  you  see  it  was  too 
irresistible — as  you  know." 

There  was  a  pause  while  she  waited  for  his  answer 
— her  head  inclined  to  one  side,  her  green  eyes  gleam- 
ing. 

Loder,  conscious  of  her  regard,  hesitated  for  a  mo- 
ment. Then  his  face  cleared.  "  Right !  "  he  said  slow- 
ly. "The  'Arcadian'  tonight!" 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

Loder's  frame  of  mind  as  he  left  Cadogan  Gardens 
was  peculiar.  Once  more  he  was  living  in  the  present 
— the  forceful,  exhilarating  present — and  the  knowledge 
braced  him.  Upon  one  point  his  mind  was  satisfied. 
Lillian  Astrupp  had  found  the  telegram,  and  it  remained 
to  him  to  render  her  find  valueless.  How  he  proposed 
to  do  this,  how  he  proposed  to  come  out  triumphant  in 
face  of  such  a  situation,  was  a  matter  that  as  yet  was 
shapeless  in  his  mind ;  nevertheless,  the  danger,  the  sense 
of  impending  conflict,  had  a  savor  of  life  after  the  inac- 
tion of  the  day  and  night  just  passed.  Chilcote,  in  his 
weakness  and  his  entanglement,  had  turned  to  him,  and 
he,  in  his  strength  and  capacity,  had  responded  to  the 
appeal. 

His  step  was  firm  and  his  bearing  assured  as  he 
turned  into  Grosvenor  Square  and  walked  towards  the 
familiar  house. 

The  habit  of  self-deceit  is  as  insidious  and  tenacious 
as  any  vice.  For  one  moment  on  the  night  of  his  great 
speech,  as  he  leant  out  of  Chilcote's  carriage  and  met 
Chilcote's  eyes,  Loder  had  seen  himself;  and  under  the 
shock  of  revelation  had  taken  decisive  action.  But  in 
the  hours  subsequent  to  that  action  the  plausible  inner 
voice  had  whispered  unceasingly — soothing  his  wounded 
self-esteem,  rebuilding,  stone  by  stone,  the  temple  of  his 
egotism — until  at  last  when  Chilcote,  panic-stricken  at 
his  own  action,  had  burst  into  his  rooms,  ready  to  plea4 


220  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

or  to  coerce,  he  had  found  no  need  for  either  coercion 
or  entreaty.  By  a  power  more  subtle  and  effective  than 
any  at  his  command,  Loder  had  been  prepared  for  his 
coming — unconsciously  ready  with  an  acquiescence  before 
his  appeal  had  been  made.  It  was  the  fruit  of  this  prep- 
aration, the  inevitable  outcome  of  it,  that  strengthened  his 
step  and  steadied  his  hand,  as  he  mounted  the  steps  and 
opened  the  hall-door  of  Chilcote's  house  on  that  eventful 
afternoon. 

The  dignity,  the  air  of  quiet  solidity,  impressed  him, 
as  it  never  failed  to  do,  as  he  crossed  the  large  hall  and 
ascended  the  stairs — the  same  stairs  that  he  had  descend- 
ed almost  as  an  outcast  not  so  many  hours  before.  He 
was  rilled  with  the  sense  of  things  regained ;  belief  in  his 
own  star  lifted  him,  as  it  had  done  a  hundred  times  be- 
fore in  the  same  surroundings. 

He  quickened  his  steps  as  the  sensation  came  to  him. 
Reaching  the  head  of  the  stairs,  he  turned  directly  to- 
wards Eve's  sitting-room  and,  gaining  the  door,  knocked. 
The  strength  of  his  eagerness,  the  quick  beating  of  his 
pulses  as  he  waited  for  a  response,  surprised  him.  He 
had  told  himself  many  times  that  his  passion,  however 
strong,  would  never  again  conquer  as  it  had  done  two 
nights  ago.  And  the  fact  that  he  had  come  thus  can- 
didly to  Eve's  room  was,  to  his  mind,  a  proof  that  temp- 
tation could  be  dared.  Nevertheless  there  was  some- 
thing disconcerting  to  a  strong  man  in  this  merely  physi- 
cal perturbation ;  and  when  Eve's  voice  came  to  him  at 
last,  giving  permission  to  enter,  he  paused  for  an  instant 
to  steady  himself.  Finally,  with  sudden  decision,  he 
opened  the  door  and  walked  into  the  room. 

The  blinds  were  partly  drawn;  there  was  a  scent  of 
violets  in  the  air,  and  a  fire  glowed  warmly  in  the  grate. 
He  noted  these  things  carefully,  telling  himself  that  a 
man  should  always  be  alertly  sensible  of  his  surround- 
ings; then  all  at  once  the  nice  balancing  of  detail  sud- 
denly gave  way:  he  forgot  everything  but  the  one  cir- 
cumstance that  Eve  was  standing  in  the  window — her 
back  to  the  light,  her  face  towards  him.  With  his  pulses 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  221 

beating  fast  and  an  unsteady  sensation  in  his  brain,  he 
moved  forward,  holding  out  his  hand. 

"  Eve "  he  said  below  his  breath. 

But  Eve  remained  motionless.  As  he  came  into  the 
room  she  had  glanced  at  him — a  glance  of  quick,  search- 
ing question — then,  with  equal  suddenness,  she  had 
averted  her  eyes.  As  he  drew  close  to  her  now  she  re- 
mained immovable. 

"  Eve "  he  said  again.  "  I  wanted  to  see  you — I 

wanted  to  explain  about  yesterday  and  about  this  morn- 
ing  "  He  paused,  suddenly  disturbed.  The  full  re- 
membrance of  the  scene  in  the  brougham  had  surged  up 
at  sight  of  her — had  risen  a  fierce,  unquenchable  recol- 
lection. 

"  Eve "  he  began  again,  in  a  new,  abrupt  tone. 

But  it  was  then  that  Eve  showed  herself  in  a  fresh 
light.  From  the  moment  of  his  entrance  into  the  room 
she  had  stayed  motionless,  save  for  her  first  glance  of 
acute  inquiry;  but  now  her  demeanor  changed.  For 
almost  the  first  time  in  Loder's  knowledge  of  her,  the 
vitality  and  force  that  he  had  vaguely  apprehended 
below  her  quiet  serene  exterior  sprang  up  like  a  flame, 
within  whose  radius  all  things  are  illuminated.  With 
a  quick  gesture  she  turned  towards  him,  her  warm  color 
deepening,  her  eyes  suddenly  alight. 

"  I  understand,"  she  said,  "  I  understand.  Don't  try 
to  explain !  Can't  you  see  that  it's  enough  to — to  see 
you  as  you  are  ?  " 

Loder  was  surprised.  Remembering  their  last  pas- 
sionate scene,  and  the  damper  Chilcote's  subsequent 
presence  must  inevitably  have  cast  upon  it,  he  had  ex- 
pected to  be  doubtfully  received;  but  the  reality  of  the 
reception  left  him  bewildered.  Eve's  manner  was  not 
that  of  the  ill-used  wife,  its  vehemence,  its  note  of  de- 
sire and  depreciation,  were  more  suggestive  of  his  own 
ardent  seizing  of  the  present,  as  distinguished  from 
past  or  future.  With  an  odd  sense  of  confusion  he 
turned  to  her  afresh. 

"  Then  I  am  forgiven  ?  "  he  said.  And  unconsciously, 
as  he  moved  nearer,  he  touched  her  arm. 


222  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

At  his  touch  she  started.  All  the  yielding  sweetness, 
all  the  submission  that  had  marked  her  two  nights  ago, 
was  gone,  and  in  its  place  she  was  possessed  by  a  curious 
excitement  that  stirred  while  it  perplexed. 

Loder,  moved  by  the  sensation,  took  another  step  for- 
ward. "  Then  I  am  forgiven  ? "  he  repeated  more 
softly. 

Her  face  was  averted  as  he  spoke,  but  he  felt  her  arm 
quiver ;  and  a  moment  later  she  lifted  her  head  and  their 
eyes  met.  Neither  spoke,  but  in  an  instant  Loder's  arms 
were  round  her. 

For  a  long  silent  space  they  stood  holding  each  other 
closely ;  then,  with  a  sharp  movement,  Eve  freed  her- 
self. Her  color  was  still  high,  her  eyes  still  peculiarly 
bright,  but  the  bunch  of  violets  she  had  worn  in  her  belt 
had  fallen  to  the  ground. 

"  John ! "  she  said  quickly ;  then  her  breath  caught. 
With  a  touch  of  nervousness  she  stooped  to  pick  up  the 
flowers. 

Loder  noticed  both  voice  and  gesture.  "  What  is  it  ?  " 
he  said.  "  What  were  you  going  to  say?  " 

But  she  made  no  answer.  For  a  second  longer  she 
searched  for  the  violets;  then  as  he  bent  to  assist  her, 
she  stood  up  quickly  and  laughed — a  short,  embarrassed 
laugh. 

"  How  absurd  and  nervous  I  am ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"  Like  a  schoolgirl,  instead  of  a  woman  of  twenty-four ! 
You  must  help  me  to  be  sensible."  Her  cheeks  still 
burned,  her  manner  was  still  excited,  like  one  who  holds 
an  emotion  or  impulse  at  bay. 

Loder  looked  at  her  uncertainly. 

"  Eve "  he  began  again,  with  his  odd,  character- 
istic perseverance;  but  she  instantly  checked  him.  There 
was  a  finality,  a  faint  suggestion  of  fear,  in  her  protest. 

"  Don't !  "'  she  cried.  "  Don't !  I  don't  want  explana- 
tions. I  want  to — to  enjoy  the  moment,  without  hav- 
ing things  analyzed  or  smoothed  away.  Can't  you  un- 
derstand? Can't  you  see  that  I'm  wonderfully,  terribly 
happy  to — to  have  you — as  you  are !  "  Again  her  voice 
broke — a  break  that  might  have  been  a  laugh  or  a  sob. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  223 

The  sound  was  an  emotional  crisis,  as  such  a  sound 
frequently  is.  It  arrested  and  steadied  her.  For  a  mo- 
ment she  stood  absolutely  still;  then  with  something 
very  closely  resembling  her  old  repose  of  manner  she 
stooped  again  and  quietly  picked  up  the  flowers  still  ly- 
ing at  her  feet. 

"  Now,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  must  say  what  I've 
wanted  to  say  all  along.  How  does  it  feel  to  be  a  great 
man  ?  "  Her  manner  was  controlled ;  she  looked  at  him 
evenly  and  directly;  save  for  the  faint  vibration  in  her 
voice,  there  was  nothing  to  indicate  the  tumult  of  a 
moment  ago. 

But  Loder  was  still  uncertain.  Again  he  caught  her 
hand,  his  eyes  searching  hers. 

"  But  Eve "  he  began. 

Then  Eve  played  the  last  card  in  her  mysterious  game. 
Laughing  quickly  and  nervously,  she  freed  her  hand 
and  laid  it  over  his  mouth. 

"  No !  "  she  said.  "  Not  one  word !  All  this  past  fort- 
night has  belonged  to  you ;  now  it's  my  turn.  To-day  is 
mine." 


CHAPTER  XXX. 

And  so  once  again  the  woman  conquered.  Whatever 
Eve's  intentions  were, — whatever  she  wished  to  evade 
or  ward  off, — she  was  successful  in  gaining  her  end. 
For  more  than  two  hours  she  kept  Loder  at  her  side. 
There  may  have  been  moments  in  those  two  hours  when 
the  tension  was  high,  when  the  efforts  she  made  to 
interest  and  hold  him  were  somewhat  strained.  But  if 
this  was  so,  it  escaped  the  notice  of  the  one  person  con- 
cerned. For  it  was  long  after  tea  had  been  served — 
long  after  Eve  had  offered  to  do  penance  for  her  monop- 
oly of  him  by  driving  him  to  Chilcote's  club — that  Loder 
realized  with  any  degree  of  distinctness  that  it  was  she 
and  not  he  who  had  taken  the  lead  in  their  interview; 
that  it  was  she  and  not  he  who  had  bridged  the  difficult 
silences,  and  given  a  fresh  direction  to  dangerous  chan- 


224  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

nels  of  talk.  It  was  long  before  he  recognized  this; 
and  it  was  still  longer  before  he  realized  the  far  more 
potent  fact  that,  without  any  coldness,  any  lessening  of 
the  subtle  consideration  she  always  showed  him,  she  had 
given  him  no  further  opportunity  of  making  love. 

Talking  continuously,  and  elated  with  the  sense  of 
conflict  still  to  come,  Loder  drove  with  her  to  the  club. 
Considering  that  drive  in  the  light  of  after-events,  his 
own  frame  of  mind  invariably  filled  him  with  incredul- 
ity. In  the  eyes  of  any  sane  man  his  position  was  not 
worth  an  hour's  purchase;  yet  in  the  blind  self-confi- 
dence of  the  moment  he  would  not  have  changed  places 
with  Fraide  himself.  The  great  song  of  Self  was  sound- 
ing in  his  ears  as  he  drove  through  the  crowded  streets, 
conscious  of  the  cool  crisp  air;  of  Eve's  close  presence; 
of  the  numberless  infinitesimal  things  that  went  to  make 
up  the  value  of  life.  It  was  this  acknowledgment  of 
personality  that  upheld  him.  The  personality  that  had 
carried  him  unswervingly  through  eleven  colorless  years 
— that  had  impelled  him  towards  this  new  career — that 
had  hewn  a  way  for  him  in  this  fresh  existence  against 
colossal  odds;  the  personality  that  had  trampled  out 
Chilcote's  footmarks  in  public  life,  in  private  life — in 
love.  It  was  a  triumphant  psean  that  clamored  in  his 
ears — something  persistent  and  prophetic,  with  an  un- 
dernote  of  menace — the  cry  of  the  human  soul  that  has 
dared  to  stand  alone. 

His  glance  was  keen  and  bright  as  he  stood  for  a 
moment  at  the  carriage-door  and  took  Eve's  hand  before 
entering  the  club. 

"You're  dining  out  to-night?"  he  said.  His  fingers 
always  tenacious  and  masterful,  held  hers  firmly.  The 
compunction  that  had  driven  him  temporarily  towards 
sacrifice  had  passed ;  his  pride,  his  confidence,  and  with 
them  his  desire,  had  flowed  back  in  full  measure. 

Eve,  watching  him  attentively,  paled  a  little. 

"Yes,"  she  said;  "I'm  dining  with  the  Bramfells." 

"What  time  will  you  get  home?"  He  scarcely  real- 
ized why  he  put  the  question.  The  song  of  Self  still 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  225 

sounded  triumphantly,  and  he  responded  to  it  without 
reflection. 

His  eyes  held  hers,  his  fingers  pressed  her  hand;  the 
intense  mastery  of  his  will  passed  through  her  in  a  sud- 
den sense  of  fear.  Her  lips  parted  in  deprecation,  then 
closely  irresolutely. 

"  When  can  I  see  you  ?  "  he  asked  very  quietly. 

Again  she  was  about  to  speak.  She  leant  forward, 
as  if  some  thought,  long  suppressed,  trembled  on  her 
lips ;  but  once  more  her  courage  or  her  desire  failed  her. 
She  dropped  back  into  her  seat,  letting  her  lashes  droop 
over  her  eyes. 

"  I  shall  be  home  at  eleven,"  she  said  below  her 
breath. 


Loder  dined  with  Lakeley  at  Chilcote's  club;  and  so 
absorbing  were  the  political  interests  of  the  hour — the 
resignation  of  Sir  Robert  Sefborough;  the  King's  sum- 
mons to  Fraide;  the  probable  features  of  the  new  Min- 
istry,— that  it  was  after  nine  o'clock  when  he  freed  him- 
self and  drove  to  the  "  Arcadian  "  Theatre. 

The  manner  of  his  leaving  the  club  was  hurried;  and 
once  at  liberty  to  carry  out  his  enterprise,  he  was  filled 
with  a  desire  for  speed.  He  made  no  statement  of  the 
fact  to  himself,  he  gave  no  outward  evidence  of  it,  but 
there  was  a  controlled  haste  in  all  his  actions.  Fate  and 
he  were  playing  for  high  stakes,  and  he  was  possessed 
with  the  true  gambler's  ambition  to  play  rapidly,  read- 
ily, and  coolly.  When  the  last  card  was  thrown  down 
he  might  rise  from  the  game  beggared;  but  while  the 
final  round  was  still  to  be  played,  he  refused  to  look 
ahead. 

The  sound  of  music  came  to  him  as  he  entered  the 
theatre — light,  measured  music  suggestive  of  tiny 
streams,  toy  lambs  and  painted  shepherdesses.  It 
sounded  singularly  inappropriate  to  his  mood,  as  in- 
appropriate as  the  theatre  itself  with  its  gay  gilding, 
and  its  pale-toned  draperies  of  pink  and  blue.  It  was 
the  setting  of  a  different  world,  a  world  of  laughter, 


226  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

light  thoughts,  and  shallow  impulses,  in  which  he  had  no 
part.  He  halted  for  an  instant  outside  the  box  to  which 
the  attendant  had  shown  him ;  then,  as  the  door  was 
thrown  open,  he  straightened  himself  resolutely  and 
stepped  forward. 

It  was  the  interval  between  the  first  and  second  acts. 
The  box  was  in  shadow,  and  Loder's  first  impression 
was  of  voices  and  rustling  skirts,  broken  by  the  murmur 
of  frequent,  amused  laughter;  later,  as  his  eyes  grew 
accustomed  to  the  light,  he  distinguished  the  occupants 
— two  women  and  a  man.  The  man  was  speaking  as 
he  entered,  and  the  story  he  was  relating  was  evidently 
interesting,  from  the  faint  exclamations  of  question  and 
delight  that  punctuated  it  in  the  listeners'  higher,  softer 
voices.  As  Loder  stepped  forward  they  all  three  turned 
and  looked  at  him. 

"  Ah,  here  comes  the  legislator !  "  exclaimed  Leonard 
Kaine.  For  it  was  he  who  formed  the  male  element  in 
the  party. 

"  The  revolutionary,  Lennie ! "  Lillian  corrected 
softly.  "  Bramfell  says  he  has  changed  the  whole  face 

of  things "  She  laughed  softly  and  meaningly  as 

she  closed  her  fan. 

"  So  good  of  you  to  come,  Jack ! "  she  added.  "  Let 
me  introduce  you  to  Miss  Esseltyn;  I  don't  think  you 
two  have  met.  This  is  Mr.  Chilcote,  Mary !  The  great, 
new  Mr.  Chilcote !  "  Again  she  laughed. 

Loder  moved  to  the  front  of  the  box. 

"  It's  only  for  an  hour,"  he  explained.  "  I  have  an 
appointment  for  eleven."  Then  he  bowed  to  the  third 
occupant  of  the  box — a  remarkably  young  and  well- 
dressed  girl,  with  wide-awake  eyes  and  a  retrousse 
nose. 

"  Only  an  hour !  Oh,  how  unkind !  How  should  I 
punish  him,  Lennie?"  Lillian  looked  round  at  Kaine 
with  a  lingering,  almost  caressing  glance. 

He  bent  towards  her  in  quick  response,  and  answered 
in  a  whisper. 

She  laughed,  and  replied  in  an  equally  low  tone. 

Loder,  to  whom  both  remarks  had  been  inaudible, 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  227 

dropped  into  the  vacant  seat  beside  Mary  Esseltyn.  He 
had  the  unsettled  feeling  that  things  were  not  falling 
out  exactly  as  he  had  calculated. 

"  What  is  the  play  like  ?  "  he  hazarded,  as  he  looked 
towards  his  companion.  At  all  times  social  trivialties 
bored  him;  to-night  they  were  intolerable.  He  had 
come  to  fight,  but  all  at  once  it  seemed  that  there  was 
no  opponent.  Lillian's  attitude  disturbed  him ;  her 
careless  graciousness,  her  evident  ignoring  of  him  for 
Kaine,  might  mean  nothing — but  might  mean  much. 

So  he  speculated,  as  he  put  his  question  and  spurred 
his  attention  towards  the  girl's  answer;  but  with  the 
speculation  came  the  resolve  to  hold  his  own, — to  meet 
his  enemy  upon  whatever  ground  she  chose  to  appropri- 
ate. 

The  girl  looked  at  him  with  interest. 

"  It  is  a  good  play,"  she  responded.  "  I  like  it  better 
than  the  book.  You've  read  the  book,  of  course?" 

"  No."    Loder  tried  hard  to  fix  his  thoughts. 

"  It's  amusing — but  far-fetched." 

"  Indeed  ?  "  He  picked  up  the  programme  lying  on 
the  edge  of  the  box.  His  ears  were  strained  to  catch 
the  tone  of  Lillian's  voice  as  she  laughed  and  whispered 
with  Kaine. 

"  Yes ;  men  exchanging  identities,  you  know." 

He  looked  up  and  caught  the  girl's  self-possessed 
glance.  "  Oh  !  "  he  said.  "  Indeed  ?  "  Then  again  he 
looked  away.  It  was  intolerable — this  sense  of  impo- 
tency — this  feeling  of  being  caged  up !  A  sensation  of 
anger  crept  through  his  mind.  It  almost  seemed  that 
Lillian  had  brought  him  there  to  prove  that  she  had 
finished  with  him — that  she  had  cast  him  aside,  having 
used  him  for  the  day's  excitement,  as  she  had  used  her 
poodles,  her  Persian  cats,  her  crystal-gazing.  All  at 
Dnce  the  uncertainty  of  his  position  goaded  him  to  ac- 
tion. Turning  swiftly,  he  glanced  back  to  where  she 
sat,  slowly  swaying  her  fan,  her  pale  golden  hair  and 
her  pale-colored  gown  delicately  silhouetted  against  the 
background  of  the  box. 

"  What's   your  idea   of  the  play,   Lillian  ? "  he   said 


228  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

abruptly.  To  his  own  ears  there  was  a  note  of  challenge 
in  his  voice. 

She  looked  round  languidly.  "  Oh,  it's  quite  amus- 
ing," she  said.  "  It  makes  a  delicious  farce — absolutely 
French." 

"  French  ?  " 

"  Quite  !    Don't  you  think  so,  Lennie  ?  " 

"  Oh,  quite !  "  Kaine  agreed. 

"  They  mean  that  it's  so  very  light,  and  yet  so  very 
subtle,  Mr.  Chilcote,"  Mary  Esseltyn  explained. 

"  Indeed  ?  "  he  said.  "  Then  my  imagination  was  at 
fault.  I  thought  the  piece  was  serious." 

"  Serious !  "  Lillian  smiled.  "  Why,  where's  your 
sense  of  humor?  The  motive  of  the  play  debars  serious- 
ness." 

Loder  looked  down  at  the  programme  still  between 
his  hands. 

"What  is  the  motive?"  he  asked. 

Lillian  waved  her  fan  once  or  twice,  then  closed  it 
softly.  "  Love  is  the  motive,"  she  said. 

Now  the  balancing,  the  adjusting  of  impression  and 
inspiration,  is,  of  all  processes  in  life,  the  most  deli- 
cately fine.  The  simple  sound  of  the  word  "  love  "  com- 
ing at  that  precise  juncture  changed  the  whole  current 
of  Loder's  thought.  It  fell  like  a  seed;  and,  like  a  seed 
in  ultra-productive  soil,  it  bore  fruit  with  amazing  ra- 
pidity. 

The  word  itself  was  small,  and  the  manner  in  which 
it  was  spoken  trivial ;  but  Loder's  mind  was  attracted 
and  held  by  it.  The  last  time  it  had  met  his  ears,  his 
environment  had  been  vastly  different,  and  this  echo  of 
it  in  an  uncongenial  atmsophere  stung  him  to  resent- 
ment. The  vision  of  Eve — the  thought  of  Eve — became 
suddenly  dominant. 

"  Love  ?  "  he  repeated  coldly.  "  So  love  is  the  mo- 
tive?" 

"  Yes."  This  time  it  was  Kaine  who  responded  in 
his  methodical,  contented  voice.  "  The  motive  of  the 
play  is  love,  as  Lillian  says.  And  when  was  love  ever 
serious  in  a  three-act  comedy — on  or  off  the  stage  ?  " 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  229 

He  leant  forward  in  his  seat,  screwed  in  his  eye-glass, 
and  lazily  scanned  the  stalls. 

The  orchestra  was  playing  a  Hungarian  dance — its 
erratic  harmonies  and  wild  alternations  of  expression 
falling  abruptly  across  the  pinks  and  blues,  the  gilding 
and  lights  of  the  pretty,  conventional  theatre.  Some- 
thing in  the  suggestion  of  unfitness  appealed  to  Loder. 
It  was  the  force  of  the  real  as  opposed  to  the  ideal. 
With  a  new  expression  on  his  face,  he  turned  again  to 
Kaine. 

"And  how  does  it  work?"  he  said.  "This  treat- 
ment that  you  find  so — French  ?  " 

His  voice  as  well  as  his  expression  had  changed.  He 
still  spoke  quietly,  but  he  spoke  with  interest.  He  was 
no  longer  conscious  of  his  vague  irritation  and  uneasi- 
ness; a  fresh  chord  had  been  struck  in  his  mind,  and 
his  curiosity  had  responded  to  it.  For  the  first  time  it 
occurred  to  him  that  love — that  dangerous,  mysterious 
garden,  whose  paths  had  so  suddenly  stretched  out  be- 
fore his  own  feet — was  a  pleasure-ground  that  possessed 
many  doors,  and  an  infinite  number  of  keys;  for  the 
first  time  he  was  stirred  by  the  desire  to  peer  through 
another  entrance  than  his  own,  to  see  the  secret  allur- 
ing by-ways  from  another  standpoint.  He  waited  with 
interest  for  the  answer  to  his  question. 

For  a  second  or  two  Kaine  continued  to  survey  the 
house ;  then  his  eye-glass  dropped  from  his  eye  and  he 
turned  round. 

"  To  understand  the  thing,"  he  said  pleasantly,  "  you 
must  have  read  the  book.  Have  you  read  the  book?" 

"  No,  Mr.  Kaine,"  Mary  Esseltyn  interrupted.  "  Mr. 
Chilcote  hasn't  read  the  book." 

Lillian  laughed.  "  Outline  the  story  for  him,  Len- 
nie,"  she  said.  "  I  love  to  see  other  people  taking  pains." 

Kaine  glanced  at  her  admiringly.  "  Well,  to  begin 
with,"  he  said  amiably,  "  two  men — an  artist  and  a  mil- 
lionaire— exchanged  lives.  See  ?  " 

"  You  may  presume  that  he  does  see,  Lennie." 

"  Right !  Well,  then,  as  I  say,  these  beggars  change 
identities.  They're  as  like  as  pins;  and  to  all  appear- 


230  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

ances  one  chap's  the  other  chap,  and  the  other  chap's 
the  first  chap.  See  ?  " 

Loder  laughed.  The  newly  quickened  interest  was 
enhanced  by  treading  on  dangerous  ground. 

"  Well,  they  change  for  a  lark,  of  course ;  but  there's 
one  fact  they  both  overlook.  They're  men,  you  know, 
and  they  forget  these  little  things ! "  He  laughed  de- 
lightedly. "  They  overlook  the  fact  that  one  of  them 
has  a  wife !  " 

There  was  a  crash  of  music  from  the  orchestra.  Loder 
sat  straighter  in  his  seat;  he  was  conscious  that  the 
blood  had  rushed  into  his  face. 

"  Oh,  indeed  ?  "  he  said  quickly.  "  One  of  them  has 
a  wife?" 

"Exactly!"  Again  Kaine  chuckled.  "And  the 
point  of  the  joke  is  that  the  wife  is  the  least  larky  person 
under  the  sun.  See  ?  " 

A  second  hot  wave  passed  over  Loder's  face;  a  sense 
of  mental  disgust  filled  him.  This,  then,  was  the  won- 
derful garden  seen  from  another  standpoint !  He 
looked  from  Lillian — graceful,  skeptical,  and  shallow — 
to  the  young  girl  beside  him,  so  frankly  modern  in  her 
appreciation  of  life.  This,  then,  was  love  as  seen  by  the 
eyes  of  the  world, — the  world  that  accepts,  judges,  and 
condemns  in  a  slang  phrase  or  two!  Very  slowly  the 
blood  receded  from  his  face. 

"  And  the  end  of  the  story  ?  "  he  asked  in  a  strained 
voice. 

"  The  end  ?  Oh,  usual  end  of  course !  Chap  makes 
a  mess  of  things  and  the  bubble  bursts ! " 

"  And  the  end  of  the  wife  ?  " 

"  The  end  of  the  wife  ?  "  Lillian  broke  in  with  a  lit- 
tle laugh.  "  Why,  the  end  of  all  stupid  people  who, 
instead  of  going  through  life  with  a  lot  of  delightfully 
human  stumbles,  come  just  one  big  cropper.  She  natur- 
ally ends  in  the  Divorce  Court !  " 

They  all  laughed  boisterously.  Then  laughter,  story, 
and  denoument  were  all  drowned  in  a  tumultuous  crash 
pf  music.  The  orchestra  ceased ;  there  was  a  slight  hum 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  231 

of  applause;  a  bell  rang,  and  the  curtain  rose  on  the 
second  act  of  the  play. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

A  few  minutes  before  the  curtain  fell  on  the  second 
act  of  "  Other  Men's  Shoes,"  Loder  rose  from  his  seat 
and  made  his  apologies  to  Lillian. 

At  any  other  moment  he  might  have  pondered  over 
her  manner  of  accepting  them,  the  easy  indifference 
with  which  she  let  him  go.  But  vastly  keener  issues 
were  claiming  his  attention, — issues  whose  results  were 
wide  and  black. 

He  left  the  theatre,  and,  refusing  the  overtures  of 
cabmen,  set  himself  to  walk  to  Chilcote's  house.  His 
face  was  hard  and  emotionless  as  he  hurried  forward, 
but  the  chaos  in  his  mind  found  expression  in  the  un- 
evenness  of  his  pace.  To  a  strong  man,  the  confront- 
ing of  difficulties  is  never  alarming,  and  is  often  fraught 
with  inspiration;  but  this  applies  essentially  to  difficul- 
ties evolved  through  the  weakness,  the  folly,  or  the  force 
of  another:  when  they  arise  from  within,  the  matter 
is  of  another  character.  It  is  in  presence  of  his  own 
soul,  and  in  that  presence  alone,  that  a  man  may  truly 
measure  himself. 

As  Loder  walked  onward,  treading  the  familiar 
length  of  traffic-filled  streets,  he  realized  for  the  first 
time  that  he  was  standing  before  that  solemn  tribunal — 
that  the  hour  had  come  when  he  must  answer  to  him- 
self for  himself.  The  longer  and  deeper  an  oblivion, 
the  more  painful  the  awakening.  For  months  the  song 
of  Self  had  beaten  about  his  ears,  deadening  all  other 
sounds.  Now,  abruptly,  that  song  had  ceased;  not  con- 
siderately, not  lingeringly,  but  with  a  suddenness  that 
made  the  succeeding  silence  very  terrible. 

He  walked  forward,  keeping  his  direction  almost  with- 
out volition.  His  bearing  was  quiet,  his  demeanor  calm, 
but  he  was  passing  through  the  fire  as  surely  as  though 


232  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

actual  flames  rose  about  his  feet;  and,  whatever  the 
result — whatever  the  fibre  of  the  man  who  emerged 
from  the  ordeal — the  John  Loder  who  had  hewn  his 
way  through  the  past  weeks  was  destined  to  exist  no 
more.  The  triumphant  egotist — the  strong  man  who,  by 
his  own  strength,  had  kept  his  eyes  upon  one  point, 
refusing  to  see  in  other  directions — had  ceased  to  be. 

Keen  observer  though  he  was,  his  realization  of  this 
crisis  in  his  life  had  come  with  characteristic  slowness. 
When  Lillian  Astrupp  had  given  her  dictum,  when  the 
music  of  the  orchestra  had  ceased,  and  the  curtain  risen 
on  the  second  act  of  the  play,  nothing  but  a  sense  of 
stupefaction  had  filled  his  mind.  In  that  moment  the 
great  song  was  silenced ;  not  silenced  by  any  portentous 
episode,  any  incident  that  could  have  lent  dignity  to  its 
end,  but  by  a  trivial  social  commonplace.  In  the  first 
blank  sensation  of  loss  his  faculties  had  been  numbed; 
in  the  quarter  of  an  hour  that  followed  the  rise  of  the 
curtain  he  had  sat  staring  at  the  stage — seeing  nothing, 
hearing  nothing — filled  with  the  enormity  of  the  void 
that  suddenly  surrounded  him.  Then,  from  habit,  from 
constitutional  tendency,  he  had  begun  slowly  and  per- 
severingly  to  draw  one  thread  and  then  another  from 
the  tangle  of  his  thoughts ;  to  forge  with  doubt  and  dif- 
ficulty the  chain  that  was  to  draw  him  towards  the  fu- 
ture. 

And  it  was  upon  this  incomplete  and  yet  tenacious 
chain  that  his  mind  worked  as  he  traversed  the  familiar 
streets,  and  gained  the  house  he  had  so  easily  learned 
to  call  home. 

As  he  inserted  the  latch-key  and  felt  it  move  smoothly 
in  the  lock,  a  momentary  revolt  against  his  own  judg- 
ment, his  own  censorship,  swung  him.  sharply  towards 
reaction.  But  it  is  only  the  blind  who  can  walk  without 
a  tremor  upon  the  edge  of  an  abyss — and  there  was  no 
longer  a  bandage  across  his  eyes.  Like  a  strip  of  lighted 
paper,  the  reaction  flared  up;  but  like  the  strip  of  paper 
it  dropped  back  to  ashes.  He  pushed  the  door  open 
and  slowly  crossed  the  hall. 

The  mounting  of  a  staircase  is  often  the  index  to  a 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  233 

man's  state  of  mind.  As  Loder  ascended  the  stairs  of 
Chilcote's  house,  his  shoulders  lacked  their  habitual  stiff- 
ness, his  head  was  bent;  he  moved  as  though  his  feet 
were  weighted.  He  was  no  longer  the  man  of  achieve- 
ment, whose  smallest  opinion  compels  consideration.  In 
the  privacy  of  solitude,  he  was  the  mere  human  flotsam 
to  which  he  had  once  compared  himself — flotsam  that, 
dreaming  it  has  found  a  harbor,  wakes  to  see  itself  the 
prey  of  the  incoming  tide. 

He  paused  at  the  head  of  the  stairs  to  rally  his  reso- 
lutions; then,  still  walking  heavily,  he  passed  down  the 
corridor  to  Eve's  room.  It  was  suggestive  of  his  char- 
acter that,  having  made  his  decision,  he  did  not  dally 
over  its  performance.  Without  waiting  to  knock,  he 
turned  the  handle  and  walked  into  the  room. 

It  looked  precisely  as  it  always  looked;  but  to  his 
eyes  the  subdued  coloring  of  books  and  flowers — the 
bronzes,  the  lamps,  the  whole  air  of  culture  and  repose" 
that  the  place  conveyed — seemed  to  hold  a  deeper  mean- 
ing than  before.  And  as  his  glance,  crossing  the  inani- 
mate objects,  rested  on  the  face  of  their  owner,  the  true 
force  of  his  position — the  enormity  of  the  task  before  him 
— rose  suddenly  and  overwhelmingly  to  his  mind. 

Eve  was  standing  by  the  mantelpiece.  She  wore  a 
beautiful  and  elaborate  gown ;  a  long  string  of  diamonds 
was  twisted  about  her  neck,  and  her  soft  black  hair  was 
coiled  high  after  a  foreign  fashion,  and  held  in  place  by 
a  large  diamond  comb.  As  he  entered  the  room  she 
turned  hastily,  almost  nervously,  and  looked  at  him  with 
the  rapid  searching  glance  he  had  learned  to  expect  from 
her.  But  almost  directly  her  expression  changed  to  one 
of  quick  concern.  With  a  faint  exclamation  of  alarm, 
she  stepped  forward. 

"  What  has  happened  ?  "  she  said.  "  You  look  like  a 
ghost." 

He  made  no  attempt  to  answer.  Moving  into  the 
room,  he  paused  by  the  oak  table  that  stood  between 
the  fireplace  and  the  door. 

They  made  an  unconscious  tableau  as  they  confronted 
each  other.  He  with  a  hard,  set  face ;  she  with  a  height- 


234  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  oft, 

ened  color  and  inexplicably  bright  eyes.  They  stood 
completely  silent  for  a  space ;  then,  as  though  finding  the 
tension  unbearable,  Eve  spoke  again. 

"  Has  anything  happened  ?  "  she  repeated.  "  Is  any- 
thing wrong  ?  " 

Had  he  been  less  engrossed,  the  intensity  of  her  con- 
cern might  have  struck  him,  but  to  a  mind  so  harassed, 
there  was  only  room  for  one  consideration.  The  sense 
of  her  question  reached  him,  but  its  significance  left 
him  untouched. 

"  Is  anything  wrong?  "  she  reiterated. 

By  a  great  effort  he  raised  his  eyes. 

"  Yes.  Everything  in  the  world  is  wrong,"  he  said 
in  a  slow,  hard  voice. 

Eve  made  no  sound,  but  her  color  suddenly  deepened. 

Again  he  was  unobservant.  With  the  dogged  reso- 
lution that  invariably  marked  him,  he  forced  himself  to 
his  task. 

"  You  despise  lies,"  he  said  slowly.  "  Tell  me  what 
you  would  think  of  a  man  whose  whole  life  was  one 
elaborated  lie  ?  "  The  words  were  slightly  exaggerated, 
but  their  utterance,  their  painfully  brusque  sincerity, 
precluded  all  suggestion  of  effect.  Resolutely  holding 
her  gaze,  he  repeated  his  question. 

"  Tell  me  ?     Answer  me  ?    I  want  to  know." 

Eve's  attitude  was  difficult  to  read.  She  stood  twist- 
ing the  string  of  diamonds  between  her  fingers. 

"  Tell  me  ?  "  he  said  again. 

She  continued  to  look  at  him  for  a  moment;  then,  as 
if  some  fresh  impulse  moved  her,  she  turned  away  from 
him  towards  the  fire. 

"  I  cannot,"  she  said,  uncertainly.  "  We — I — I  could 
not  set  myself  to  judge— any  one." 

Loder  held  himself  rigidly  in  hand. 

"  Eve,"  he  said  quietly,  "  I  was  at  the  '  Arcadian  '  to- 
night. The  play  was  '  Other  Men's  Shoes.'  I  suppose 
you've  read  the  book  '  Other  Men's  Shoes'  ?  " 

She  was  leaning  on  the  mantelpiece,  and  her  face  was 
invisible  to  him. 

"  Yes,  I  have  read  it."  she  said,  without  looking  round. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  235 

"  It  is  the  story  of  an  extraordinary  likeness  between 
two  men.  Do  you  believe  such  a  likeness  possible?  Do 
you  think  such  a  thing  could  exist?"  He  spoke  with 
difficulty;  his  brain  and  tongue  both  felt  numb. 

Eve  let  the  diamond  chain  slip  from  her  fingers. 
"  Yes,"  she  said  nervously.  "  Yes,  I  do  believe  it.  Such 
things  have  been " 

He  caught  at  the  words.  "  You're  quite  right ! "  he 
said  quickly.  "  You're  quite  right !  The  thing  is  possi- 
ble— I've  proved  it.  I  know  a  man  so  like  me  that  you 
• — even  you — could  not  tell  us  apart." 

She  was  silent,  still  averting  her  face. 

In  dire  difficulty  he  labored  on. 

"  Such  a  likeness  is  a  serious  thing,"  he  said.  "  A 
terrible  danger — a  terrible  temptation.  Those  who  have 

no  experience  of  it  cannot  possibly  gauge  its  pitfalls " 

Again  he  paused,  but  again  the  silent  figure  by  the  fire- 
place gave  him  no  help. 

"  Eve !  "  he  exclaimed  suddenly,  "  if  you  only  knew — 

if  you  only  guessed  what  I'm  trying  to  say "  The 

perplexity — the  whole  harassed  suffering  of  his  mind, 
showed  in  the  words.  Loder — the  strong,  the  resource- 
ful, the  self-contained — was  hopelessly,  palpably  at  a 
loss.  There  was  a  note  of  appeal  in  the  vibration  of  his 
voice. 

And  Eve,  standing  by  the  fireplace,  heard  and  un- 
derstood. In  that  moment  of  comprehension  all  that  had 
held  her  silent,  all  the  conflicting  motives  that  had  for- 
bidden speech,  melted  away  before  the  unconscious  de- 
mand for  help.  Quietly  and  yet  quickly  she  turned 
round,  her  whole  face  transfigured  by  a  light  that 
seemed  to  shine  from  within — something  singularly  soft 
and  tender. 

"  There's  no  need  to  say  anything,"  she  said  simply. 
"  I  know." 

It  came  quietly — as  most  great  revelations  come.  Her 
voice  was  low  and  free  from  any  excitement;  her  face 
was  beautiful  in  its  complete  unconsciousness  of  self. 
In  that  supreme  moment  all  her  thoughts,  all  her  syn> 


236  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

pathies,  were  for  the  man  and  his  suffering.  She  had 
no  consideration  of  herself. 

To  Loder  there  was  a  moment  of  incredulity;  then 
slowly  his  brain  swung  to  realization. 

''  You  know  ?  "  he  repeated  blankly.     "  You  know  ?  " 

Without  answering,  she  walked  to  a  cabinet  that  stood 
in  the  window,  unlocked  a  drawer,  and  drew  out  several 
sheets  of  flimsy  white  paper,  crumpled  in  places,  and 
closely  covered  with  writing.  Without  a  word  she  car- 
ried them  back  and  held  them  out. 

He  took  them  in  silence;  scanned  them;  then  looked 
up. 

In  a  long  wordless  pause  their  eyes  met.  It  was  as 
if  each  looked  speechlessly  into  the  other's  heart,  seeing 
the  passions,  the  contradictions,  the  shortcomings  that 
went  to  the  making  of  both.  In  that  silence  they  drew 
closer  together  than  they  could  have  done  through  a  tor- 
rent of  words.  There  was  no  asking  of  forgiveness,  no 
elaborate  confession  on  either  side;  in  the  deep  eloquent 
silence  they  mutually  saw  and  mutually  understood. 

"  When  I  came  into  the  morning-room  to-day,"  Eve 
said  at  last,  "  and  saw  Lillian  Astrupp  reading  that  tele- 
gram, nothing  could  have  seemed  farther  from  me  than 
the  thought  that  I  should  follow  her  example.  It  was 
not  until  afterwards;  not  until — he  came  into  the  room; 
until  I  saw  that  you,  as  I  believed,  had  fallen  back  again 
from  what  I  respected  to  what  I  despised,  that  I  knew 
how  human  I  really  was.  As  I  watched  them  laugh  and 
talk,  I  felt  suddenly  that  I  was  alone  again — terribly 
alone.  I — I  think — I  believe  I  was  jealous  in  that  mo- 
ment  "  She  paused  and  gave  a  faint  nervous  laugh. 

"Eve!" 

But  she  broke  in  quickly  on  the  word.  "  I  felt  dif- 
ferent in  that  moment,"  she  said ;  "  I  didn't  care  about 
honor — or  things  like  honor.  After  they  had  gone,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  I  had  missed  something — something 
that  they  possessed.  Oh,  you  don't  know  what  a  woman 
feels  when  she  is  jealous!"  Again  she  paused.  "It 
was  then  that  the  telegram,  and  the  thought  of  Lillian's 
amused  smile  as  she  had  read  it,  came  to  my  mind. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  237 

Feeling  as  I  did — acting  on  what  I  felt — I  crossed  to 
the  bureau  and  picked  it  up.  In  one  second  I  had  seen 
enough  to  make  it  impossible  to  draw  back.  Oh,  it  may 
have  been  dishonorable — it  may  have  been  mean !  but  I 
wonder  if  any  woman  in  the  world  would  have  done 
otherwise.  I  crumpled  up  the  papers  just  as  they  were, 
and  carried  them  to  my  own  room."  She  stopped  and 
looked  at  him,  her  breath  coming  fast,  the  pupils  of  her 
eyes  dilated. 

From  the  first  word  of  the  story  to  the  last,  his  eyes 
had  never  left  her  face;  and  instantly  she  finished  his 
voice  broke  forth  in  irrepressible  question.  In  that  won- 
derful space  of  time  he  had  learned  many  things.  All 
his  deductions,  all  his  apprehensions,  had  been  scattered 
and  disproved.  He  had  seen  the  true  meaning  of  Lil- 
lian Astrupp's  amused  indifference — the  indifference  of 
a  variable  flippant  mature  that,  robbed  of  any  real  weapon 
for  mischief,  soon  tires  of  a  game  that  promises  to  be 
too  arduous.  He  saw  all  this,  and  understood  it  with  a 
rapidity  born  of  the  moment;  nevertheless  when  Eve 
ceased  to  speak,  the  question  that  broke  from  him  was 
not  connected  with  this  great  discovery — was  not  even 
suggestive  of  it.  It  was  something  quite  immaterial  to 
any  real  issue,  but  something  that  overshadowed  every 
consideration  in  the  world. 

"Eve,"  he  said,  "tell  me  your  first  thought?  Your 
first  thought  after  the  shock  and  the  surprise,  when — 
when  you  remembered  me  ?  " 

There  was  a  fresh  pause,  but  one  of  very  short  dura- 
tion; then  Eve  met  his  glance  fearlessly  and  frankly. 
The  same  pride  and  dignity,  the  same  indescribable  ten- 
derness that  had  responded  to  his  first  appeal,  shone  in 
her  face. 

"  My  first  thought  was  a  great  thankfulness,"  she  said 
simply.  "  A  thankfulness  that  you — that  no  man — 
could  ever  understand," 


238  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  oft, 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

As  she  finished  speaking,  Eve  did  not  lower  her  eyes. 
To  her  there  was  no  suggestion  of  shame  in  her  thoughts 
or  her  words;  but  to  Loder,  watching  and  listening, 
there  was  a  perilous  meaning  contained  in  both. 

"  Thankfulness  ?  "  he  repeated  slowly.  From  his  newly 
stirred  sense  of  responsibility,  pity  and  comprehension 
were  rising  gradually  and  laboriously.  He  had  never 
seen  Eve  as  he  saw  her  now;  and  his  vision  was  all  the 
clearer  for  the  long  oblivion.  With  a  poignant  sense  of 
compassion  and  remorse,  the  knowledge  of  her  youth 
came  to  him.  The  youth  that  some  women  preserve  in 
the  midst  of  the  world,  when  circumstances  have  per- 
mitted them  to  see  much  but  to  experience  little. 

"  Thankfulness  ?  "  he  said  again  incredulously. 

A  slight  smile  touched  her  lips. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  softly.  "  Thankfulness  that  my 
faith  had  been  rightly  placed." 

She  spoke  simply  and  confidently,  but  the  words  struck 
Loder  more  sharply  than  any  accusation.  With  a  heavy 
sense  of  bitterness  and  renunciation  he  moved  slowly  for- 
ward. 

"  Eve,"  he  said  very  gently,  "  you  don't  know  what 
you  say." 

She  had  lowered  her  eyes  as  he  came  towards  her; 
now  again  she  lifted  them  in  a  swift  upward  glance. 
For  the  first  time  since  he  had  entered  the  room  a  slight 
look  of  personal  doubt  and  uneasiness  showed  in  her 
face. 

"  Why  ?  "  she  said.    "  I— I  don't  understand." 

For  a  moment  he  answered  nothing.  He  had  found 
his  first  explanation  overwhelming;  now,  suddenly,  it 
seemed  to  him  that  his  present  difficulty  was  more  im- 
possible to  surmount. 

"  I  came  here  to-night  to  tell  you  something,"  he  be- 
gan at  last,  "  but  so  far,  I  have  only  said  half  of  what 
I  meant  to  say " 

"Half?" 

"  Yes ;  half."    He  repeated  the  word  quickly,  avoid- 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  239 

ing  the  question  in  her  eyes.  Then,  conscious  of  the 
need  for  explanation,  he  plunged  into  rapid  speech. 

"  A  fraud  like  mine,"  he  said,  "  has  only  one  safe- 
guard, one  justification — a  boundless  audacity.  Once 
shake  that  audacity,  and  the  whole  motive-power 
crumbles.  It  was  to  make  the  audacity  impossible;  to 
tell  you  the  truth  and  make  it  impossible,  that  I  came 
here  to-night.  The  fact  that  you  already  know  makes 
the  telling  easier — but  it  alters  nothing." 

Eve  raised  her  head,  but  he  went  resolutely  on,  not 
appearing  to  see  her  action. 

"  To-night,"  he  said,  "  I  have  seen  into  my  own  life, 
into  my  own  mind ;  and  my  ideas  have  been  very  roughly 
shaken  into  place.  We  never  make  so  colossal  a  mis- 
take as  when  we  imagine  that  we  know  ourselves! 
Months  ago,  when  your  husband  first  proposed  this 
scheme  to  me,  I  was — according  to  my  own  conception 
— a  solitary  being  vastly  ill-used  by  Fate  who,  with  a 
fine  stoicism,  was  leading  a  clean  life.  That  was  what 
I  believed.  But  there,  at  the  very  outset,  I  deceived 
myself.  I  was  simply  a  man  who  shut  himself  up  be- 
cause he  cherished  a  grudge  against  life,  and  who  lived 
honestly  because  he  had  a  constitutional  distaste  for  vice. 
My  first  feeling  when  I  saw  your  husband  was  one  of 
self-righteous  contempt;  and  that  has  been  my  attitude 
all  along.  I  have  often  marveled  at  the  flood  of  in- 
tolerance that  has  rushed  over  me  at  sight  of  him — the 
violent  desire  that  has  possessed  me  to  look  away  from 
his  weakness  and  banish  the  knowledge  of  it ;  but  now  I 
understand. 

"  I  know  now  what  the  feeling  meant.  The  knowl- 
edge came  to  me  to-night.  It  meant  that  I  turned  away 
from  his  weakness,  because,  deep  within  myself,  some- 
thing stirred  in  recognition  of  it.  Humanity  is  much 
simpler  than  we  like  to  think ;  and  human  impulses  have 
an  extraordinary  fundamental  connection.  Weakness  is 
egotism — but  so  is  strength.  Chilcote  has  followed  his 
vice — I  have  followed  my  ambition.  It  will  take  a  higher 
judgment  than  yours  or  mine  to  say  which  of  us  has 


240  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  oft, 

been  the  more  selfish  man !  "  He  paused  and  looked  at 
her. 

She  was  watching  him  intently.  Some  of  the  mean- 
ing in  his  face  had  found  a  pained,  alarmed  reflection  in 
her  own.  But  the  awe  and  wonder  of  the  morning's 
discovery  still  colored  her  mind  too  vividly  to  allow  of 
other  considerations  possessing  their  proper  value.  The 
thrill  of  exultation  with  which  the  misgivings  born  of 
Chilcote's  vice  had  dropped  away  from  her  mental  image 
of  Loder,  was  still  too  absorbing  to  be  easily  dominated. 
She  loved  and,  as  if  by  a  miracle,  her  love  had  been 
justified.  For  the  moment  the  justification  seemed  all- 
sufficing.  Something  of  confidence,  something  of  the  in- 
nocence that  comes,  not  from  ignorance  of  evil,  but 
from  a  mind  singularly  uncontaminated,  blinded  her  to 
the  danger  of  her  position. 

Loder,  waiting  apprehensively  for  some  aid,  some  ex- 
pression of  opinion,  became  gradually  conscious  of  this 
lack  of  realization.  Moved  by  a  fresh  impulse,  he  crossed 
the  small  space  that  divided  them  and  caught  both  her 
hands. 

"  Eve,"  he  said  gently,  "  I  have  been  trying  to  ana- 
lyze myself  and  give  you  the  results;  but  I  shan't  try 
any  more,  I  shall  be  quite  plain  with  you. 

"  From  the  first  moment  I  took  your  husband's  place 
I  was  ambitious.  You  unconsciously  aroused  the  feel- 
ing when  you  brought  me  Fraide's  message  on  the  first 
night.  You  aroused  it  by  your  words,  but  you  aroused 
it  more  strongly  by  your  underlying  antagonism.  On 
that  night,  although  I  did  not  know  it  then,  I  took  up 
my  position — I  made  my  determination.  Do  you  know 
what  that  determination  was  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  It  was  the  desire  to  stamp  out  Chilcote's  footmarks 
with  my  own;  to  prove  that  personality  is  the  great 
force,  capable  of  everything.  I  forgot  to  reckon  that 
when  we  draw  largely  upon  Fate,  she  generally  extorts 
a  crushing  interest. 

"  First  came  the  wish  for  your  respect ;  then  came  the 
desire  to  stand  well  with  such  men  as  Fraide,  to  feel  the 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  241 

stir  of  emulation  and  competition,  to  prove  myself 
strong  in  the  one  career  I  knew  myself  really  fitted  for. 
For  a  time  the  second  ambition  overshadowed  the  first, 
but  the  first  was  bound  to  reassert  itself;  and  in  a  mo- 
ment of  egotism  I  conceived  the  notion  of  winning  your 
enthusiasm  as  well  as  your  respect " 

Eve's  face,  alert  and  questioning,  suddenly  paled  as 
a  doubt  crossed  her  mind. 

;'  Then  it  was  only — only  to  stand  well  with  me  ?  " 

"  I  believed  it  was  only  the  desire  to  stand  well  with 
you.  I  believed  that,  until  the  night  of  my  speech — if 
you  can  credit  anything  so  absurd — then,  on  that  night, 
as  I  came  up  the  stairs  to  the  Gallery  and  saw  you 
standing  there,  the  blindness  fell  away,  and  I  knew  that 
I  loved  you."  As  he  said  the  last  words  he  released 
her  hands  and  turned  aside,  missing  the  quick  wave  of 
joy  and  color  that  crossed  her  face. 

"  I  knew  it,  but  it  made  no  difference,"  he  went  on ; 
"  I  was  only  moved  to  a  higher  self-glorification.  I 
touched  supremacy  that  night.  But  as  we  drove 
home  I  experienced  the  strangest  coincidence  of  my  life. 
You  remember  the  block  in  the  traffic  at  Piccadilly  ? " 

Again  she  bent  her  head  silently. 

"  Well,  when  I  looked  out  of  the  carriage-window  to 
discover  its  cause,  the  first  man  I  saw  was — Chilcote." 

Eve  started  slightly.  This  swift  unexpected  linking 
of  Chilcote's  name  with  the  most  exalted  moment  of  her 
life  stirred  her  unpleasantly.  Some  glimmering  of 
Loder's  intention  in  so  linking  it,  broke  suddenly  through 
the  web  of  her  disturbed  and  conflicting  thoughts. 

"  You  saw  him  on  that  night  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  the  sight  chilled  me.  It  was  a  big  drop 
from  supremacy  to  the  remembrance  of — everything." 

Involuntarily  she  put  out  her  hand. 

But  Loder  shook  his  head.  "  No,"  he  said ;  "  don't 
pity  me.  The  sight  of  him  came  just  in  time.  I  had 
a  reaction  in  that  moment;  and,  such  as  it  was,  I  acted 
on  it.  I  went  to  him  next  morning  and  told  him  that 
the  thing  must  end.  But  then — even  then — I  shirked  be- 
ing honest  with  myself.  I  had  meant  to  tell  him  that 


242  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

it  must  end  because  I  had  grown  to  love  you,  but  my 
pride  rose  up  and  tied  my  tongue.  I  could  not  humiliate 
myself.  I  put  the  case  before  him  in  another  light.  It 
was  a  tussle  of  wills — and  I  won;  but  the  victory  was 
not  what  it  should  have  been.  That  was  proved  to-day, 
when  he  returned  to  tell  me  of  the  loss  of  this  telegram. 
It  wasn't  the  fear  that  Lady  Astrupp  had  found  it;  it 
wasn't  to  save  the  position  that  I  jumped  at  the  chance 
of  coming  back.  It  was  to  feel  the  joy  of  living,  the 
joy  of  seeing  you — if  only  for  a  day ! "  For  one  sec- 
ond he  turned  towards  her;  then,  as  abruptly,  he  turned 
away  again. 

"  I  was  still  thinking  of  myself,"  he  said.  "  I  was  still 
utterly  self-centered  when  I  came  to  this  room  to-day 
and  allowed  you  to  talk  to  me — when  I  asked  you  to  see 
me  to-night,  as  we  parted  at  the  club.  I  shan't  tell  you 
the  thoughts  that  unconsciously  were  in  my  mind  when 
I  asked  that  favor.  You  must  understand  without  ex- 
planation. 

"  I  went  to  the  theatre  with  Lady  Astrupp  ostensibly 
to  find  how  the  land  lay  in  her  direction — really  to 
heighten  my  self-esteem.  But  there,  Fate — or  the 
Power  we  like  to  call  by  that  name — was  lying  in  wait 
for  me,  ready  to  claim  the  first  interest  on  the  portion 
of  life  I  had  dared  to  borrow."  He  said  this  slowly, 
as  if  measuring  each  word.  He  did  not  glance  towards 
Eve,  as  he  had  done  in  his  previous  pause.  His  whole 
manner  seemed  oppressed  by  the  gravity  of  what  he  had 
still  to  say. 

"  I  doubt  if  a  man  has  ever  seen  more  in  half  an  hour 
than  I  have  done  to-night,"  he  said.  "  With  his  men- 
tal eyes,  I  mean.  In  this  play,  '  Other  Men's  Shoes,' 
two  men  change  identities — as  Chilcote  and  I  have  done 
— but  in  doing  so  they  overlook  one  fact.  The  fact 
that  one  of  them  has  a  wife!  That's  not  my  way  of 
putting  it;  it's  the  way  it  was  put  to  me  by  one  of 
Lady  Astrupp's  guests." 

Again  Eve  looked  up.  The  doubt  and  question  in 
her  eyes  had  grown  unmistakably,  As  he  ceased  tp 
speak,  her  lips  parted  quickly. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  243 

"  John,"  she  said  with  sudden  conviction,  "  you're  try- 
ing to  say  something — something  that's  terribly  hard." 

Without  raising  his  head,  Loder  answered  her. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  the  hardest  thing  a  man  ever 
said " 

His  tone  was  short,  almost  brusque,  but  to  ears  sharp- 
ened by  instinct  it  was  eloquent.  Without  a  word,  Eve 
took  a  step  forward,  and,  standing  quite  close  to  him, 
laid  both  hands  on  his  shoulders. 

For  a  space  they  stood  silent,  she  with  her  face  lifted, 
he  with  averted  eyes.  Then,  very  gently,  he  raised  his 
hands  and  tried  to  unclasp  her  ringers.  There  was 
scarcely  any  color  visible  in  his  face ;  and  by  a  curious 
effect  of  emotion  it  seemed  that  lines,  never  before  no- 
ticeable, had  formed  about  his  mouth. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  Eve  asked  apprehensively.  "  John, 
what  is  it?" 

By  a  swift  involuntary  movement  she  had  tightened 
the  pressure  of  her  ringers;  and,  without  using  force, 
it  was  impossible  for  him  to  unloose  them.  With  his 
hands  pressed  irresolutely  over  hers,  he  looked  down 
into  her  face. 

"  As  I  sat  in  the  theatre  to-night,"  he  said  slowly,  "  all 
the  pictures  I  had  formed  of  life  shifted.  Without  de- 
siring it,  without  knowing  it,  my  whole  point  of  view 
was  changed.  I  suddenly  saw  things  by  the  world's 
search-light  instead  of  by  my  own  miserable  candle.  I 
suddenly  saw  things  for  you — instead  of  for  myself." 

Her  eyes  widened  and  darkened,  but  she  said  noth- 
ing. 

"  I  suddenly  saw  the  unpardonable  wrong  that  I  have 
done  you — the  imperative  duty  of  cutting  it  short."  He 
spoke  very  slowly,  in  a  dull  mechanical  voice. 

Eve — her  eyes  still  wide,  her  face  pained  and  alarmed 
— withdrew  her  hands  from  his  shoulders. 

"  You  mean,"  she  said  with  difficulty,  "  that  it  is  go- 
ing to  end?  That  you  are  going  away?  That  you  are 
giving  everything  up  ?  Oh,  but  you  can't !  You  can't !  " 
She  spoke  with  sudden  excitement,  her  fears  overmas- 


244  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  oft, 

taring  her  incredulity.  "  You  can't !  You  mustn't  I  The 
only  proof  that  could  have  interfered " 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  the  proof." 

"  Then  of  what?  of  what?  " 

Loder  was  silent  for  a  moment. 

"  Of  our  love,"  he  said  steadily. 

She  colored  deeply.  "  But  why  ?  "  she  stammered ; 
why  ?  We  have  done  no  wrong.  We  need  do  no  wrong. 

We  would  be  friends — nothing  more ;  and  I Oh,  I 

so  need  a  friend !  "  For  almost  the  first  time  in  Loder's 
knowledge  of  her,  her  voice  broke,  her  control  de- 
serted her.  She  stood  before  him  in  all  the  pathos  of 
her  lonely  girlhood. 

The  revelation  touched  him  with  sudden  poignancy; 
the  real  strength  that  lay  beneath  his  faults,  the  chivalry 
buried  under  years  of  callousness,  stirred  at  the  birth  of 
a  new  emotion.  The  resolution  preserved  at  such  a 
cost,  the  sacrifice  that  had  seemed  wellnigh  impossible, 
all  at  once  took  on  a  different  shape.  What  before  had 
been  a  barren  duty,  became  suddenly  a  sacred  right. 
Holding  out  his  arms  he  drew  her  to  him  as  if  she  had 
been  a  child. 

"  Eve,"  he  said  gently,  "  I  have  learned  to-night  how 
fully  a  woman's  life  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  world — and 
how  scanty  that  mercy  is.  If  circumstances  had  been 
different,  I  believe — I  am  convinced — I  would  have  made 
you  a  good  husband,  would  have  used  my  right  to  pro- 
tect you  as  well  as  a  man  could  use  it.  And  now  that 
things  are  different,  I  want — I  should  like "  He  hes- 
itated a  very  little.  "  Now  that  I  have  no  right  to  pro- 
tect you,  except  the  right  my  love  gives,  I  want  to  guard 
you  as  closely  from  all  that  is  sordid  as  any  husband 
could  guard  his  wife. 

"  In  life  there  are  really  only  two  broad  issues — right 
and  wrong.  Whatever  we  may  say,  whatever  we  may 
profess  to  believe,  we  know  that  our  actiqn  is  always  a 
choice  between  right  and  wrong.  A  month/ago — a  week 
ago — I  would  have  despised  a  man  who  could  talk  like 
this,  and  have  though  myself  strong  for  despising  him. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  245 

Now  I  know  that  strength  is  something  more  than  the  trampling 
of  others  into  the  dust,  that  we  ourselves  may  have  a  clear  road. 
It  is  something  much  harder  and  much  less  triumphant  than 
that.  It  is  the  standing  aside  to  let  somebody  else  pass  on. 
Eve !"  he  cried  suddenly,  "Eve,  I'm  trying  to  do  this  for  you. 
Don't  you  see?  Don't  you  understand?  The  easy  course,  the 
pleasant  course,  would  be  to  let  things  drift.  Every  instinct  is 
calling  to  me  to  take  that  course — to  go  on  as  I  have  gone, 
trading  on  Chilcote's  weakness  and  your — your  generosity.  But 
I  won't  do  it !  I  can't  do  it !"  With  a  swift  impulse  he  loosed 
his  arms  and  held  her  away  from  him. 

"  Eve,  it's  the  first  time  I  have  put  another  human  being  before 
myself." 

Eve  kept  her  head  bent.  Painful,  inaudible  sobs  were  shaking 
her  from  head  to  foot. 

"  It's  something  in  you — something  unconscious,  something 
high  and  fine — that  holds  me  back,  that  literally  bars  the  way. 
Eve,  can't  you  see  that  I'm  fighting — fighting  hard?" 

After  he  had  spoken  there  was  silence — a  long  painful  silence — 
during  which  Eve  waged  the  battle  that  so  many  of  her  sex  have 
waged  before;  the  battle  in  which  words  are  useless  and  tears 
of  no  account.  She  looked  very  slight,  very  young,  very  forlorn 
as  she  stood  there.  Then,  in  the  oppressive  sense  of  waiting 
that  filled  the  whole  room,  she  looked  up  at  him. 

Her  face  was  stained  with  tears,  her  thick  black  lashes  were 
still  wet  with  them ;  but  her  expression,  as  her  eyes  met  his, 
was  a  strange  example  of  the  courage,  the  firmness,  the  power 
of  sacrifice  that  may  be  hidden  in  a  fragile  vessel. 

She  said  nothing,  for  in  such  a  moment  words  do  not  come 
easily,  but  with  the  simplest,  most  submissive,  most  eloquent 
gesture  in  the  word  she  set  his  perplexity  to  rest. 

Taking  his  hand  between  hers,  she  lifted  it,  and  for  a  long 
silent  space  held  it  against  her  lips. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

For  a  while  there  was  silence ;  then  Loder,  bitterly  aware  that 
he  had  conquered,  poignantly  conscious  of  the  appeal  that  Eve's 
attitude  made, — found  further  endurance  impossible.  Gently 
freeing  his  hand,  he  moved  away  from  her  to  the  fireplace, 
taking  up  the  position  that  she  had  first  occupied. 

"  Eve,"  he  said  slowly,  "  I  haven't  finished  yet.  I  haven't  said 
everything.  I'm  going  to  tax  your  courage  further." 

With  a  touch  of  pained  alarm  she  raised  her  head.  "  Fur- 
ther?" she  said. 

He  shrank  from  the  expression  on  her  face. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  with  difficulty.  "  Yes,  there's  still  another 
point  to  be  faced.  The  matter  doesn't  end  with  my  going  back. 


246  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

To  have  the  situation  fully  saved,  Chilcote  must  return — Chil- 
cote  must  be  brought  to  realize  his  responsibilities." 

Her  lips  parted  in  dumb  dismay. 

"  It  must  be  done,"  he  went  on  hurriedly ;  "  and  we  have  got 
to  do  it — you  and  I."  He  turned  and  looked  at  her. 

"I?  I  could  do  nothing.  What  could  I  do?"  Her  voice 
failed. 

"  Everything,"  he  said ;  "  you  could  do  everything.  He  is 
morally  weak,  but  he  has  one  sensitive  point — the  fear  of  a  public 
exposure.  Once  make  it  plain  to  him  that  you  know  his  secret, 
and  you  can  compel  him  to  whatever  course  of  action  you  select. 
It  was  to  ask  you  to  do  this— to  beg  you  to  do  this — that  I  came 
to  you  tonight.  I  know  that  it's  expecting  more  than  a  woman's 
resolution — more  ihan  a  woman's  strength.  But  you  are  like  no 
woman  in  the  world! 

"  Eve !  "  he  cried  with  sudden  vehemence,  "  can't  you  see  that 
it's  imperative — the  one  thing  to  save  us  both?" 

He  stopped  as  abruptly  as  he  had  begun,  and  again  a  painful 
silence  filled  the  room.  Then,  as  before,  Eve  moved  instinctively 
towards  him,  but  this  time  her  steps  were  slow  and  uncertain. 
Nearing  his  side,  she  put  out  her  hand  as  if  for  comfort  and 
support;  and  feeling  his  fingers  tighten  round  it,  stood  for  a 
moment  resting  in  the  contact. 

"  I  understand,"  she  said  at  last  very  slowly.  "  I  understand. 
When  will  you  take  me  to  him  ?  " 

For  a  moment  Loder  said  nothing,  not  daring  to  trust  his 
voice;  then  he  answered  low  and  abruptly. 

"  Now !  "  he  said.  "  Now,  at  once !  Now,  this  moment,  if  I 
may !  And — remember  that  I  know  what  it  costs  you."  As  if 
imbued  with  fear  that  his  own  courage  might  fail  him,  he  re- 
leased her  hand,  crossed  the  room  to  where  a  long  dark  cloak 
lay  as  she  had  thrown  it  on  her  return  home,  and,  picking  it  up, 
silently  wrapped  it  about  her.  Then,  still  acting  automatically, 
he  moved  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  stood  aside  while  she  passed 
out  into  the  corridor. 

In  complete  silence  they  descended  the  stairs,  and  moved  to 
the  hall-door.  There  Crapham,  who  had  returned  to  his  duties 
since  Loder's  entrance,  came  quickly  forward  with  an  offer  of 
service.  ^  . 

But  Loder  dismissed  him  curtly;  and  with  something  of  the 
confusion  bred  of  Chilcote's  regime,  the  man  drew  back  towards 
the  staircase. 

With  a  hasty  movement  Loder  stepped  forward,  and,  opening 
the  hall-door,  admitted  a  breath  of  chill  air.  But  on  the  thresh- 
old he  paused.  It  was  his  first  sign  of  hesitation ;  the  one 
instant  in  which  nature  rebelled  against  the  conscience  so  tardily 
awakened.  For  one  moment  he  stood  motionless,  and  it  is 
doubtful  whether  even  Eve  fully  fathomed  the  bitterness  of  his 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  247 

renunciation — the  blackness  of  the  night  that  stretched  in  front 
of  him. 

Behind  him  was  everything;  before  him,  nothing.  The  every- 
thing symbolized  by  the  luxurious  house,  the  eagerly  attentive 
servants,  the  pleasant  atmosphere  of  responsibility ;  the  nothing 
represented  by  the  broad  public  thoroughfare,  the  passing  figures, 
each  unconscious  of,  each  uninterested  in  his  existence.  As  an 
interloper  he  had  entered  this  house ;  as  an  interloper  he  had 
played  his  part,  lived  his  hour,  proved  himself;  as  an  interloper 
he  was  now  passing  back  into  the  dim  world  of  unrealized  hopes 
and  unachieved  ambitions. 

He  stood  rigidly  quiet,  his  strong  figure  silhouetted  against  the 
lighted  hall,  his  face  cold  and  set;  then  with  a  touch  of  fatality, 
Chance  cut  short  his  struggle. 

An  empty  hansom  wheeled  round  the  corner  of  the  square;  the 
cabman,  Feeing  him,  raised  his  whip  in  query,  and  involuntarily 
Loder  nodded  an  acquiescence.  A  moment  later  he  had  helped 
Eve  into  the  cab. 

"Middle  Temple  Lane!"  he  directed,  pausing  on  the  step. 

"Middle  Temple  Lane  is  opposite  to  Clifford's  Inn,"  he  ex- 
plained, as  lie  took  his  place.  "When  we  get  there  we  have  only 
to  cross  the  Strand." 

Eve  bent  her  head  in  token  that  she  understood,  and  the  cab 
moved  out  into  the  roadway. 

Within  a  few  minutes  the  neighborhood  of  Grosvenor  Square 
was  exchanged  for  the  noisier  and  more  crowded  one  of  Picca- 
dilly ;  but  either  the  cabman  was  over  cautious  or  the  horse  was 
below  the  average,  for  they  made  but  slow  progresr  through  the 
more  crowded  streets.  To  the  two,  sitting  in  silence,  the  pace 
was  wellnigh  unbearable.  With  every  added  movement  the  ten- 
sion grew.  The  methodical  care  with  which  they  moved  seemed 
like  the  tightening  of  a  string  already  strained  to  breaking-point; 
yet  neither  spoke,  because  neither  had  the  courage  necessary  for 
words. 

Once  or  twice  they  traversed  the  Strand,  Loder  made  a  move- 
ment as  if  to  break  the  quiet;  but  nothing  followed  it.  He  con- 
tinued to  lean  forward  with  a  certain  dogged  stiffness,  his 
clasped  hands  resting  on  the  doors  of  the  cab,  his  eyes  staring 
straight  ahead.  Not  once,  as  they  threaded  their  way,  did  he 
dare  to  glance  at  Eve,  though  every  movement,  every  slightest 
stir  of  her  garments,  was  forced  upon  his  consciousness  by  his 
acutely  awakened  senses. 

When  at  last  they  drew  up  before  the  dark  archway  of  Middle 
Temple  Lane,  he  descended  hastily.  And  as  he  mechanically 
turned  to  protect  her  dress  from  the  wheel,  he  looked  at  her 
fully  for  the  first  time  since  their  enterprise  had  been  undertaken. 
As  he  looked,  he  felt  his  heart  sink.  He  had  expected  to  see  the 
marks  of  suffering  on  her  face,  but  the  expression  he  saw  sug- 
gested something  more  than  mere  mental  pain. 


248  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

The  rich  color  that  usually  deepened  and  softened  the  charm  of 
her  beauty  had  been  erased  as  if  by  a  long  illness ;  and  against 
the  new  pallor  of  her  skin,  her  blue  eyes,  her  black  hair  and 
eyebrows  looked  startlingly  dark.  A  chill  colder  than  remorse — 
a  chill  that  bordered  upon  actual  fear — fell  upon  him.  With  the 
first  impulsive  gesture  he  had  allowed  himself,  he  touched  her 
arm. 

"Eye — "  he  began  unsteadily;  then  the  word  died  upon  his  lips. 

Without  a  sound,  almost  without  a  movement,  she  returned  his 
glance ;  and  something  in  her  eyes  checked  what  he  might  have 
said.  In  that  one  expressive  look  he  understood  all  she  had 
desired — all  she  had  renounced ;  the  full  extent  of  the  ordeal 
she  had  consented  to,  and  the  motive  that  had  compelled  her  con- 
sent. He  drew  back  with  the  heavy  sense  that  repentance  and 
pity  were  equally  futile — equally  out  of  place. 

Still  in  silence,  she  stepped  to  the  pavement  and  stood  aside 
while  he  dismissed  the  hansom.  To  both  there  was  something 
symbolic,  something  prophetic,  in  the  dismissal.  Without  inten- 
tion and  almost  unconsciously,  they  drew  closer  together  as  the 
horse  turned,  its  hoofs  clattering  on  the  roadway,  its  harness 
jingling.  And  involuntarily  they  looked  after  the  vehicle,  as  it 
moved  away  down  the  long  shadowed  thoroughfare  towards  the 
lights,  the  crowds  that  they  had  left  behind.  At  last,  instinctive- 
ly, they  turned  towards  each  other. 

"Come !"  said  Loder  abruptly.  "Come !  it's  only  across  the 
road." 

Fleet  street  is  generally  very  quiet  once  midnight  is  passed,  and 
Eve  had  no  need  of  guidance  or  protection  as  they  crossed  the 
pavement,  shining  like  ice  in  the  lamplight..  They  crossed  it 
slowly,  walking  apart ;  for  the  dread  of  physical  contact  that  had 
possessed  them  in  the  cab  seemed  to  have  fallen  upon  them 
again. 

Inquisitiveness  has  little  place  in  the  region  of  the  City,  and 
they  gained  the  opposite  footpath  unnoticed  by  the  casual  passer- 
by. Then,  still  holding  apart,  they"  reached  and  entered  Clifford's 
Inn. 

Inside  the  entrance  they  paused,  and  Eve  shivered  involuntarily. 

"How  gray  it  is!"  she  said  faintly.  "And  how  cold!  Like  a 
graveyard." 

Loder  turned  to  her.  For  one  moment  his  control  seemed 
shaken;  his  blood  surged,  his  vision  clouded;  the  sense  that  life 
and  love  were  still  within  his  reach  filled  him  overwhelmingly. 
He  half  extended  his  hands.  Then,  stirred  by  what  impulse, 
moved  by  what  instinct,  it  was  impossible  to  say,  he  let  them 
drop  to  his  sides  again. 

"Come !"  he  repeated.  "Come !  This  is  the  way.  Keep  close 
to  me.  Put  your  hand  on  my  arm." 

He  spoke  quietly,  but  his  eyes  were  resolutely  averted  from 
hers,  as  they  crossed  the  dim  silent  court. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  240 

Entering  the  gloomy  doorway  that  led  to  his  own  rooms,  he 
felt  her  fingers  tremble  on  his  arm,  then  tighten  in  their  pres- 
sure, as  the  bare  passage  and  cheerless  stairs  met  her  view ;  but 
he  set  his  lips. 

"Come !"  he  reiterated  in  the  same  strained  voice.  "Come !  It 
isn't  far — three  or  four  flights." 

With  a  white  face  and  a  curious  expression  in  her  eyes,  Eve 
moved  forward.  She  had  released  Loder's  arm  as  they  crossed 
the  hall ;  and  now,  reaching  the  stairs,  she  put  out  her  hand 
gropingly  and  caught  the  banisters.  She  had  a  pained,  numb 
sense  of  submission — of  suffering  that  had  sunk  to  apathy.  Mov- 
ing forward  without  resistance,  she  began  to  mount  the  stairs. 

The  ascent  was  made  in  silence.  Loder  went  first,  his  shoulders 
braced,  his  head  held  erect;  while  Eve,  mechanically  watchful  of 
all  his  movements,  followed  a  step  or  two  behind.  With  weary 
monotony  one  flight  of  stairs  succeeded  another;  each,  to  her  un- 
accustomed eyes,  seeming  more  colorless,  more  solitary,  more 
desolate  than  the  preceding  one. 

At  last,  with  a  sinking  sense  of  apprehension,  she  realized 
that  their  goal  was  reached. 

The  knowledge  broke  sharply  through  her  dulled  senses ;  and 
confronted  by  the  closeness  of  her  ordeal  she  paused,  her  head 
lifted,  her  hand  still  nervously  grasping  the  banister.  Her  lips 
parted  as  if  in  sudden  demand  for  aid ;  but  in  that  nervous  ex- 
pectation, the  pained  apprehension  of  the  moment,  no  sound 
escaped  them.  And  Loder,  who  had  resolutely  moved  across  the 
landing,  knew  nothing  of  the  silent  appeal. 

For  a  second  she  stood  hesitating;  then  her  own  weakness,  her 
own  shrinking  dismay,  were  submerged  in  the  interest  of  his 
movements.  Slowly  mounting  the  remaining  steps,  she  followed 
him,  as  if  fascinated,  towards  the  door  that  showed  dingily  con- 
spicuous in  the  light  of  an  unshaded  gas-jet. 

Almost  at  the  moment  that  she  reached  his  side,  he  extended 
his  hand  towards  the  door.  The  action  was  decisive  and  hur- 
ried, as  though  he  feared  to  trust  himself. 

For  a  space  he  fumbled  with  the  lock.  And  Eve,  standing 
close  behind  him,  heard  the  handle  creak  and  turn  under  his 
pressure.  Then  he  shook  the  door. 

At  last  slowly — almost  reluctantly — he  turned  round.  "I'm 
afraid  things  aren't  quite — quite  right,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 
"The  door  is  locked,  and  I  can  see  no  light." 

She  raised  her  eyes  quickly.  "But  you  have  a  key?"  she  whis- 
pered. "Haven't  you  got  a  key?"  It  was  obvious  that,  to  both, 
the  unexpected  check  to  their  designs  was  fraught  with  danger. 

"Yes,  but — "  He  paused  and  looked  again  towards  the  door. 
"Yes — I  have  a  key.  Yes — perhaps  you're  right !"  he  added 
quickly.  "Perhaps  I  had  better  use  it.  Wait,  while  I  go  inside !" 

Filled  with  a  new  nervousness,  oppressed  by  the  loneliness  and 
silence  about  her,  Eve  drew  back  obediently.  The  sense  of  mys- 


250  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

tery  conveyed  by  the  closed  door  weighed  upon  her.  Her  suscep- 
tibilities were  tensely  alert  as  she  watched  Loder  search  for  his 
key  and  insert  it  in  the  lock.  With  mingled  dread  and  curiosity 
she  saw  the  door  yield,  and  gape  open  like  a  black  gash  in  the 
dingy  wall ;  and,  with  a  sudden  sense  of  desertion,  she  saw  him 
pass  through  the  aperture  and  heard  him  strike  a  match. 

The  wait  that  followed  seemed  extraordinarily  long.  Listening 
intently,  she  heard  him  move  softly  from  one  room  to  another. 
And  at  last,  to  her  acutely  nervous  susceptibilities,  it  seemed 
that  he  paused  in  absolute  silence.  In  the  intensity  of  listening, 
she  heard  her  own  faint,  irregular  breathing;  and  the  sound 
filled  her  with  panic.  The  quiet,  the  solitude,  the  vague  instinctive 
apprehension,  became  suddenly  unendurable.  Then,  all  at  once, 
the  tension  was  relieved.  Lpder  reappeared. 

He  paused  for  a  second  in  the  shadowy  doorway;  then  he 
turned  unsteadily,  drew  the  door  to,  and  locked  it. 

Eve  stepped  forward.  Her  glimpse  of  him  had  been  moment- 
ary— and  she  had  not  heard  his  voice — yet  the  consciousness  of 
his  bearing  filled  her  with  instinctive  fear.  Abruptly  and  with- 
out reason,  her  hands  turned  cold,  her  heart  began  to  beat  vio- 
lently. 

"John — "  she  said  below  her  breath. 

For  answer,  he  moved  towards  her.  His  face  was  bereft  of 
color;  there  was  a  look  of  consternation  in  his  eyes. 

"Come !"  he  said.  "Come  at  once !  I  must  take  you  home." 
He  spoke  in  a  shaken,  uneven  voice. 

Eve,  looking  up  at  him,  caught  his  hand.  "Why?  Why?"  Her 
tone  was  low  and  scared. 

Without  replying  he  drew  her  imperatively  towards  the  stairs. 
"Go  very  softly,"  he  commanded.  "No  one  must  see  you  here." 

In  the  first  moment  she  obeyed  him  instinctively;  but  reaching 
the  head  of  the  stairs,  she  stopped.  With  one  hand  still  clasping 
his,  the  other  clinging  nervously  to  the  banister,  she  refused  to 
descend. 

"John,"  she  whispered,  "I'm  not  a  child.  What  is  it?  What 
has  happened?" 

For  a  moment  he  looked  at  her  uncertainly;  then  reading  the 
expression  in  her  eyes,  he  yielded  to  her  demand. 

"He's  dead!"  he  said  in  a  very  low  voice.  "Chicote  is  dead!" 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

To  fully  appreciate  a  great  announcement  we  must  have  time 
at  our  disposal.  At  the  moment  of  Loder's  disclosure,  time  was 
denied  to  Eve;  for  scarcely  had  the  words  left  his  lips  than  the 
thought  that  dominated  him  asserted  its  prior  claim.  Blind  to 
the  incredulity  in  her  eyes,  he  drew  her  swiftly  forward,  and, 
half  impelling,  half  supporting  her,  forced  her  to  descend  the 
stairs. 


THE  MASQUERADERS.  251 

Never  in  after-life  could  he  obliterate  the  remembrance  of  that 
descent.  Fear,  such  as  he  could  never  experience  in  his  own 
concerns,  possessed  him.  One  desire  overrode  all  others — the 
desire  that  Eve's  reputation  which  he  himself  had  so  nearly  en- 
dangered— should  remain  unimperilled.  In  the  shadow  of  that 
new  and  urgent  duty,  the  despair  of  the  past  hours,  the  appalling 
fact  so  lately  realized,  the  future  with  its  possible  trials,  became 
dark  to  his  imagination.  In  his  victory  over  self,  the  question 
of  her  protection  predominated. 

Moving  under  this  compulsion,  he  guided  her  hastily  and 
silently  down  the  deserted  stairs,  drawing  a  breath  of  deep  relief 
as,  one  after  another,  the  landings  were  successfully  passed ;  and 
still  actuated  by  the  suppressed  need  of  haste,  he  passed  through 
the  doorway  that  they  had  entered  under  such  different  condi- 
tions only  a  few  minutes  before. 

To  leave  the  quiet  court,  gain  the  Strand,  and  hail  a  belated 
hansom,  was  the  work  of  a  moment.  By  an  odd  contrivance  of 
circumstances,  the  luck  that,  had  attended  every  phase  of  his  dual 
life  was  again  exerted  in  his  behalf.  No  one  had  noticed  his 
entry  into  Clifford's  Inn;  no  one  was  moved  to  curiosity  by  his 
exit.  With  an  involuntary  thrill  of  feeling  he  gave  expression 
to  his  relief. 

"Thank  God,  it's  over !"  he  said,  as  the  cab  drew  up  beside  the 
curb.  "You  don't  know  what  the  strain  has  been!" 

Moving  as  if  in  a  dream,  Eve  stepped  into  the  waiting  hansom. 
As  yet  the  terrible  denouement  to  their  enterprise  had  made  no 
clear  impression  upon  her  mind.  For  the  moment  all  that  she 
was  conscious  of — all  that  she  instinctively  acknowledged — was 
the  fact  that  Loder  was  still  beside  her. 

In  quiet  obedience  she  took  her  place,  drawing  aside  her  skirts 
to  make  room  for  him ;  and  in  the  same  subdued  manner  he 
stepped  into  the  vehicle.  Then,  with  the  strange  sensation  of 
re-living  their  earlier  drive,  they  were  mutually  aware  of  the 
tightened  reins  and  the  horse's  first  forward  movement. 

For  several  seconds  neither  spoke.  Eve,  shutting  out  all  other 
thoughts,  sat  close  to  Loder,  clinging  tenaciously  to  the  moment- 
ary comforting  sense  of  his  protection ;  and  Loder,  striving  to 
marshal  his  ideas,  hesitated  before  the  ordeal  of  speech.  At  last, 
realizing  his  responsibility,  he  turned  to  her  slowly. 

"Eve,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice,  and  with  some  hesitation,  "I 
want  you  to  know  that  from  the  moment  I  saw  him — from  the 
moment  I  understood — I  have  had  you  in  my  thoughts — you  and 
no  one  else." 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  his  face. 

"Do  you  realize?"  he  began  afresh.  "Do  you  know  what  this 
—this  thing  means?" 

Still  she  remained  silent. 

"It  means  that  after  tonight  there  will  be  no  such  person  in 
London  as  John  Loder.  It  means  that  tomorrow  the  man  W}IQ 


252  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

was  known  by  that  name  will  be  found  dead  in  his  rooms;  his 
body  will  be  removed,  and  at  the  post-mortem  examination  it 
will  be  stated  that  he  died  of  an  overdose  of  morphia.  His  char- 
woman will  identify  him  as  a  solitary  man  who  lived  respectably 
for  years,  and  then  suddenly  went  downhill  with  remarkable 
rapidity.  It  will  be  quite  a  common  case.  Nothing  of  interest 
will  be  found  in  his  rooms;  no  relation  will  claim  his  body;  after 
the  usual  interval,  he  will  be  given  the  usual  burial  of  his  class. 
These  details  are  horrible,  but  there  are  times  when  we  must  look 
at  the  horrible  sides  of  life — because  life  is  incomplete  without 
them. 

"These  things  I  speak  of,  are  the  things  that  will  meet  the 
casual  eye;  but  in  our  sight  they  will  have  a  very  different  mean- 
ing." 

"Eve !"  he  said  sharply  and  almost  vehemently ;  "a  whole  chap- 
ter in  my  life  has  been  closed  to-night;  and  my  first  instinct  is 
to  shut  the  book  and  throw  it  away.  But  I  am  thinking  of  you. 
Remember,  I  am  thinking  of  you.  Whatever  the  trials,  whatever 
the  difficulties,  no  harm  shall  come  to  you.  You  have  my  word 
for  that!" 

"I'll  return  with  you  now  to  Grosvenor  Square;  I'll  remain  till 
a  reasonable  excuse  can  be  given  for  Chilcote's  going  abroad;  I 
will  avoid  Fraide,  and  I  will  cut  politics ;  then  at  the  first  reason- 
able moment  I  will  do  what  I  would  do  now,  to-night,  if  it  were 
possible.  I'll  go  away ;  start  afresh ;  try  to  do  in  another  country 
what  I  have  done  in  this!" 

There  was  a  long  silence ;  then  Eve  turned  to  him. 

"In  another  country?"  she  said.    "In  another  country?" 

"Yes;  a  fresh  career  in  a  fresh  country.  Something  clean  to 
offer  you.  I'm  not  too  old  to  do  what  other  men  have  done." 

He  paused;  and  for  one  moment  Eve  looked  ahead  at  the 
gleaming  chain  of  lamps  that  marked  the  Strand;  then,  with  the 
same  air  of  deliberation,  she  brought  her  glance  back  to  his  face. 

"No,"  she  said  very  slowly.  "You  are  not  too  old.  But  there 
are  times  when  age — and  things  like  age — are  not  the  real  consid- 
eration. It  seems  to  me  that  your  own  inclination,  your  own 
individual  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  has  nothing  to  dp  with  the 
present  moment.  The  question  is  whether  you  are  justified  in 
going  away?"  She  paused,  her  eyes  fixed  steadily  upon  his. 
"Whether  you  are  free  to  go  away — and  make  a  new  life  ?  Wheth- 
er it  is  ever  justifiable  to  follow  a  phantom  light  when — when 
there's  a  lantern  waiting  to  be  carried !"  Her  breath  caught ;  she 
drew  away  from  him,  half  frightened,  half  elated  by  her  words. 

Loder's  lips  parted. 

"Eve!"  he  exclaimed.  Then  suddenly  his  tone  changed.  "You 
don't  know  what  you're  saying,"  he  added  quickly.  "You  don't 
understand  what  you're  saying." 

But  Eve  leant  forward,  still  looking  into  his  eyes.  "Yes,"  she 
gaid  slowly  "J  do  understand."  Her  voice  was  controlled,  fee? 


THE  MASQUERADERS. 

hianner  convinced.  She  was  no  longer  the  girl  conquered  by 
strength  greater  than  her  own;  she  was  the  woman,  strenuously 
demanding  her  right  to  individual  happiness. 

"I  understand  it  all,"  she  repeated.  "I  understand  every  point. 
It  was  not  Chance  that  made  you  change  your  identity,  that  made 
you  care  for  me,  that  brought  about — his  death.  I  don't  believe 
it  was  Chance;  I  believe  it  was — something  much  higher.  You 
are  not  meant  to  go  away!" 

As  Loder  watched  her,  the  remembrance  of  his  first  days  as 
Chilcote  rose  again ;  the  remembrance  of  how  he  had  been  dimly 
filled  with  the  belief  that  below  her  self-possession  lay  a  strength 
— a  depth — uncommon  in  woman.  As  he  studied  her  now  the 
instinctive  belief  flamed  into  conviction. 

"Eve !"  he  cried  involuntarily. 

With  a  quick  gesture  she  raised  her  head.  "No!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "No ;  don't  say  anything !  You  are  going  to  see  things 
as  I  see  them — you  must  do  so — you  have  no  choice.  No  real 
man  ever  casts  away  the  substance  for  the  shadow !"  Her  eyes 
shone — the  color,  the  glow,  the  vitality  rushed  back  into  her  face. 

"John,"  she  said,  "I  love  you — and  I  need  you — but  there  is 
something  with  a  greater  claim — a  greater  need  than  mine.  Don't 
you  know  what  it  is?" 

He  said  nothing;  he  made  no  gesture. 

"It  is  the  party — the  country.  You  may  put  love  aside,  but 
duty  is  different.  You  have  pledged  yourself.  You  are  not 
meant  to  draw  back." 

Again  his  lips  parted,  but  again  she  checked  him. 

"Don't!"  she  said.  "Don't  say  anything!  I  know  all  that  is 
in  your  mind.  But  when  we  sift  things  right  through,  it  isn't 
my  love  or  our  happiness  that's  really  in  the  balance.  It  is  your 
future !"  Her  voice  thrilled.  "You  are  going  to  be  a  great 
man !  And  a  great  man  is  the  property  of  his  country.  He  has 
no  right  to  individual  action.  You  believe  you  have  acted  wrong- 
ly and  you  are  desperately  afraid  of  acting  wrong- 
ly again.  But  is  it  really  truer,  more  loyal,  for  us  to  work  out  a 
long  probation  in  grooves"  that  are  already  over-filled  than  to 
marry  quietly  abroad  and  fill  the  places  that  have  need  of  us? 
That  is  the  question  I  want  you  to  answer.  Is  it  really  truer  and 
nobler?  Oh,  I  see  the  doubt  that  is  in  your  mind!  You  think  it 
finer  to  go  away  and  make  a  new  life  than  to  live  the  life  that  is 
waiting  for  you — because  one  is  independent  and  the  other  means 
the  use  of  another  man's  name  and  another  man's  money.  That 
is  the  thought  in  your  mind.  But  what  is  it  that  prompts  that 
thought?"  Again  her  voice  caught,  but  her  eyes  did  not  falter. 

"I  will  tell  you.  It  is  not  nobility — it  is  not  sacrifice — but  pride." 
She  said  the  word  fearlessly. 

A  flush  crossed  Loder's  face. 

"A  man  requires  pride,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice. 

"Yes;  at  the  right  time.    But  is  this  the  right  time?    Is  it  ever 


254  JOHN  CHILCOTE;  OR, 

right  to  throw  away  the  substance  for  the  shadow  ?  You  say  that 
I  don't  understand — don't  realize ;  I  realize  more  to-night  than 
I  have  realized  in  all  my  life.  I  know  that  you  have  an  oppor- 
tunity that  can  never  come  again — and  that  it's  terribly  possible 
to  let  it  slip — " 

She  paused.  Loder  sat  with  his  hands  resting  on  the  closed 
doors  of  the  cab,  his  eyes  averted,  his  head  bent. 

"Only  to-night,"  she  went  on,  "you  told  me  that  everything 
was  crying  to  you  to  take  the  easy,  pleasant  way.  Then,  it  was 
strong  to  turn  aside ;  but  now  it  is  not  strong.  It  is  far  nobler 
to  fill  an  empty  niche  than  to  carve  one  for  yourself.  John — " 
she  suddenly  leant  forward,  laying  her  hands  over  his.  "Mr. 
Fraide  told  me  to-night  that  in  his  new  Ministry  my — my  hus- 
band was  to  be  Under-Secretary  for  Foreign  Affairs!" 

The  words  fell  softly.  So  softly  that  to  ears  less  comprehend- 
ing than  Loder's  their  significance  might  have  been  lost — as  his 
own  rigid  attitude  and  unresponsive  manner  might  have  con- 
veyed lack  of  understanding  to  any  eyes  less  observant  than  Eve's. 

For  a  long  space  no  word  was  spoken.  At  last,  with  a  very 
gentle  pressure,  her  fingers  tightened  over  his  hands. 

"John — "  she  began.  But  the  word  died  away.  She  drew  back 
into  her  seat,  as  the  cab  stopped  before  Chilcote's  house. 

Simultaneously  as  they  descended,  the  hall-door  was  opened 
and  a  flood  of  warm  light  opured  out  reassuringly  into  the  dark- 
ness. 

"I  thought  it  was  your  cab,  sir,"  Crapham  explained  deferen- 
tially as  they  passed  into  the  hall.  "Mr.  Fraide  has  been  waiting 
to  see  you  this  half-hour.  I  showed  him  into  the  study."  He 
closed  the  door  swiftly  and  retired. 

Then,  in  the  warm  light,  amidst  the  gravely  dignified  sur- 
roundings that  had  marked  his  first  entry  into  this  hazardous 
second  existence,  Eve  turned  to  Loder  for  the  verdict  upon  which 
the  future  hung. 

As  she  turned  his  face  was  still  hidden  from  her,  and  his  atti- 
tude betrayed  nothing. 

"John,"  she  said  slowly,  "y°u  know  why  Mr.  Fraide  is  here. 
You  know  that  he  has  come  to  personally  offer  you  this  position ; 
to  personally  receive  your  refusal  or  consent." 

She  ceased  to  speak;  there  was  a  moment  of  suspense;  then 
Loder  turned.  His  face  was  still  pale  and  grave,  with  the  gravity 
of  a  man  who  has  but  recently  been  close  to  death ;  but  beneath 
the  gravity  was  another  look ;  the  old  expression  of  strength  and 
self-reliance — tempered,  raised  and  dignified  by  a  new  humility. 

Moving  forward,  he  held  out  his  hands. 

"My  consent  or  refusal,"  he  said  very  quietly,  "lies  with — my 
wife." 

[THE  END.] 


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